What's Meant To Be
by 4Love4Love4
Summary: Prince Carter Schreave has spent his whole life being told that he's special, that he'll do great things for his country. Almost nothing has ever made him nervous, for he believes there's no obstacle that he can't tackle. His Selection shouldn't be any different, right? But with the threat of another world war, and girls of all sorts, will he find the one who's meant to be? Hiatus
1. Time For My Selection

It wasn't like I had never met a girl. It wasn't even like I had never met a girl my age. It was the fact that I knew that I would never marry any of them. But now I'm 19. And it's time for my Selection.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Selection: when the crown prince of Illéa (me) turns 19 (my age), 35 girls, one from each province, between the ages of 15 and 20 (including neither 15 nor 20) will come to the royal palace to live with us. All of them I date at once, and one of them I'll marry. It's a televised spectacle, and I have to eliminate everyone one by one. Fantastic.

The problem is, not all of them will be entering for love. Some of them want the crown. Some of them want the money. I'm not really interested in finding a wife at 19 (except as a boy living with a virginity law, I do get lusty sometimes), but I certainly don't want someone who _also_ doesn't want to get married to me! That would make for a sucky life.

And on top of it, the palace is going _crazy!_ The buzz is slightly intolerable. And for whatever reason, they keep asking me about accommodations for the girls!

"Can you please just pick Carter?" My mom asks me, frustrated. Next to her is Cordelia Thornley, our very own "Sophia" of my Selection, with her hands on her hips. I could clearly tell they were losing patience, but I don't even _care_ about this stuff! What purpose does that have? I don't know what girls like their rooms to look like! I cant chose one maid over another! These are things for Blair to answer! _What a good idea._

"I think that you should ask Blair. She would be much more able to answer such a question." I tell them.

"Nice try. You're not getting out of this." Mom crosses her arms. _Oh well. It was worth a shot._

"Ok. What's a calming color?"

"Ah! Smart! The girls will be nervous, so it's best to give them a calming colored room! See Carter? You've got this!" My mom seems very suddenly excited, and Delia makes a note on her clipboard. _Sure. Those were my intentions. I just don't want a color that will give me a headache when visit them, but it's probably best that they don't get headaches either. Right. Yeah!_

"What about purple or navy or light aqua? Girls like those colors, right?" Blair does, at least.

"Ooh! Lavender could be gorgeous! A mint-ish light aqua would be stunning at night and in the mornings, definitely. Navy's a no, far too dark. Make a note of that!" My mom exclaims excitedly.

"What if we have a small crystal chandelier over the bed? Or do you want a canopy?" Delia asks mom.

"No canopy, the chandelier is definitely better. I want a queen sized bed in the corner of the room, no bed posts, no canopy." Delia writes some more. "I think that light aquamarine would be better for the tone of the room, what do you think Carter?"

"What? Oh yeah, that sounds good."

"Yeah. That's perfect. Write that down." She gestures to Delia.

I thankfully tune out the rest of the conversation. Finally they dismiss me.

On my way back to my room, Blair stops me.

"You excited to announce the Selection tonight?" She teases. _Shut up Blair._

"Of course. This is how I'll find my wife. I can't wait to see how many girls want to marry me. Don't you?" I ask her coolly. "Oh wait, no one wants to marry you!" She sticks her tongue out at me.

"More people want to marry me in each town than you have brain cells." She tells me.

"Ouch Blair Bear, that stings." I mockingly wince, using the nickname I know she hates.

"Haha. I sincerely hope that those poor girls aren't looking for humor."

"Sticks and stones B."

"Yeah, good luck. With your charm, girls should be lining up all the way to New Asia." She rolls her eyes sarcastically.

"I am quite charming." I say, stroking my chin.

"And humble."

"Yes, that too."

"Later Loser."

"Later Loser." I repeat, a smirk playing on my lips.

She struts off in the opposite direction, and I walk to my room.

It's about 4 in the afternoon, and my day can't be over yet. No chance. But what can I even do?

 _Take a nap._

Hahahahaha no. No sleep's coming when I have to announce the Selection. Hell no.

I'm nervous. And I don't usually get nervous, and _never_ would I admit that. But there's only one person that I'll talk to about this.

I groggily get out of my bed and trudge to the other side of the 3rd floor.

I notice the nameplate pinned to her white door that she made when she was 16: oval shaped and painted white and hot pink in a lacy pattern. And in the center is her name is cursive: Bexley.

I knock lightly. When she doesn't come to the door, I tap with a bit more force.

"Bex?" I call. I hear a crash and a door click shut, plus a lot of mumbling and stumbling around the room. She finally comes to the door dressed in a white robe. I sniff her. "What do you smell like?"

"What do you need?" The words aren't harsh, but rather soft, laced with shreds of disappointment. _She must be having a bad day._

"Umm… Can I come in?"

She hesitates. "Uh, sure." She extends the door open and I sit on her off white and silver studded ottoman while she sits on her matching off-white bed, the sheets wrinkled. _Maybe she was sleeping._

"Talk to me."

I breathe a sigh.

"I'm nervous." I admit.

"That's ok. Lucas was petrified when he had his Selection."

"Really?"

"Yep. Arabella told me when I was like, 6. He was going _nuts!_ " She chuckles wistfully. "I don't really think you have anything to worry about."

"What if I find anybody?"

"That's the beauty of the Selection. There's always someone for everyone. That's how it's always been. Your parents went through a Selection, look at how in love they are! Grandma America and Grandpa Maxon's story is practically a fairytale! Great Grandma Amberly was the only person who could ever calm Great Grandpa Clarkson. I think you'll be just fine."

"But what if I fall in love and she doesn't?"

"Then it wasn't meant to be." She sees the look at my face and rubs my arms. "Listen. You're going to do great. Ok? I promise."

I breathe shakily. "Ok."

"I'll see you on the _Report_ tonight, sound good? I'm cheering for you." She tosses me a wink.

"Ok. Thank you." I silently close her door behind me.

 _Now what do I do until 8:00?_

* * *

 _ **Heyyyyyyy everyone! Are you ready for another SYOC story? I AM!**_

 _ **Selection SYOC Form:**_

 _ **Name (First, Middle, Last):**_

 _ **Nickname (Optional):**_

 _ **Age:**_

 _ **Birthday (no year):**_

 _ **Caste:**_

 _ **Occupation (Check my PowerPoint, it should help A LOT!):**_

 _ **School Attended/Highest Grade Level Completed:**_

 _ **Height/Weight/Build:**_

 _ **Eyes:**_

 _ **Hair (Color/length/type/preferred style):**_

 _ **Skin Tone:**_

 _ **Other distinct features:**_

 _ **Face Claim/Celebrity-Look-Alike (OPTIONAL, I'm just taking them as suggestions. AND AGE APPROPRIATE!):**_

 _ **Makeover changes/preferences for what she would wear:**_

 _ **Signature Scent:**_

 _ **Selection Style (clothes, hair, makeup, colors, fabrics, silhouettes, jewelry, anything you can think of!):**_

 _ **Style before the Selection (Same as above):**_

 _ **Personality (The more depth the better):**_

 _ **Likes/Hobbies/Passions:**_

 _ **Dislikes:**_

 _ **Quirks (give me a bunch of random facts about them):**_

 _ **Languages Spoken:**_

 _ **Family (Name, Age, Job, Appearance, Personality, Relationship with Character):**_

 _ **Pets?:**_

 _ **Best friends/Friends (if relevant):**_

 _ **History/Background:**_

 _ **First date Ideas:**_

 _ **Maids (There has to be 3: Name, age, appearance, personality):**_

 _ **How do they treat the Selected girls:**_

 _ **How do they treat the maids:**_

 _ **Opinions of Prince Carter:**_

 _ **Opinions of Princess Blair:**_

 _ **Opinions of King Lucas:**_

 _ **Opinions of Queen Madison:**_

 _ **Opinions of any other royal you find relevant:**_

 _ **Reason for entering:**_

 _ **Romantic History (if relevant):**_

 _ **Anything else:**_

 _ **HAVE FUN GUYS!**_

 _ **Here are my rules:**_

 _ **Try to make your characters INTERESTING! Some of them have shells. Some are mean. Some are selfless to a fault. Some are feisty. Quirky. Witty. Bratty. Sweet. MAKE A MIX! Give your characters depth! And same goes for appearance! Maybe they have different colored eyes! Maybe they die their hair blue! Maybe they're ethnic! Try to make all of your characters as original as possible!**_

 _ **Applications may ONLY BE SUBMITTED BY PM! That's important. REALLY sorry guests, but I'm going to need to be able to ask you questions!**_

 _ **Your PM subject heading should be just your girls name. Fist and Last.**_

 _ **This isn't a rule, but if you're going to submit, it would be really helpful for you to review!**_

 _ **THANK YOU GUYS! HAPPY SUBMITTING!**_

 _ **-Lily**_


	2. Get Your Forms

_**I have a polyvore guys. All of the outfits are going to be on there, so check it out!**_

 _ **My username is:**_

 _ **whats-meant-to-be-selection**_

 _ **THANKS! Read on!**_

Dressed in a newly tailored crisp back suit and a white button down with a black bowtie, I take a deep breath and try to radiate confidence. I'm jittery, but I can act cool enough so I look nonchalant.

Gavril announced his retirement the day my dad announced that he would marry my mom, and Calla Daquilante had been announcing for us ever since. For their wedding, all of my aunts and uncles marriages, all of the Selected's marriages, for all of my cousin's and sister's birth's, all of the events, and every report every Friday of my life. I know that she'll try to make me look as comfortable as possible; she's quite skilled at making things look easy.

I sit in between Blair and my mom in large white bubble chairs. On a 180 degree angle from us is all the rest of the Royal Family: Anna and Charlie, Bexley, Christopher, William, and Courtney, Ara and her husband Aaron, their sons Wesley and Liam and their daughter Amaryllis, Josephine and her husband Kaden, plus their son Romeo and their daughters Delaney and Natalie, and Victoria and Jackson's twins Colton and Daelyn, Mallory, Tierney, and Searra. Grandma America and Grandpa Maxon sit behind my family. The support that my huge extended family helps, but I'm still in a panic! With 35 girls, how are you supposed to find the one that's meant to be?

"We're on in 3! 2!" The cameraman makes a "1" with is fingers and signal's that we're live.

"Good evening Illéa!" Calla's enthusiasm is palpable. "It's so glad to be here on this beautiful Friday evening!" My family, practically a full audience, applauds, filling up the room with clapping. "We have several things to talk about tonight, but lets get to the topic you actually care about." A lot of us chuckle. "Prince Carter, could you please come down here?" I do as told, and Christopher, Bexley, and Romeo cheer as the rest of the family claps politely. "You all must know that Crown Prince Carter Schreave is 19. And when King Lucas turned 19, and even old Ex-King Maxon, for folks from that generation, they had their own Selection." She looks at me to finish.

"It would be a shame to break tradition." I lead on, winking.

"Get your forms people! Its time for Illéa's 6th Selection!"

…

"I swear I can't take anybody seriously who winks at a camera." My best friend Madison -named after the queen herself- deadpans. I laugh, and she smirks in my direction, pleased with herself. It's rare that we can sleepover with each other now that we're 18 and starting college in the fall, but some of my best memories include the 2 of us snuggled up side by side on the pullout in my basement, watching movies or the Report on the large but old TV.

"Do you think you'll enter?" I ask her.

"Probably not." She refuses to elaborate.

"Ah. Why be Selected when you can ogle at Carter Tinley all day?" I poke her stomach.

"Shut up." She buries her face in her pillow, her chestnut hair, closely resembling mine, falling around the soft white case. "You're one to judge! You've liked most of our grade." She grumbles.

"So have you!" I argue. "And, unlike you, I don't have a crush right now. I'm signing up." I reply with certainty.

"Good for you." She says supportively.

"First thing in the morning?" I confirm.

"Sure, I'll wake you." See, I've always had an EXTREME problem waking up early. Not beneficial to any job except for mine, novelist, half the reason I chose it.

True to her word, I'm woken at promptly 7:00 to take a shower and get ready. We wanted to get there by 9:00, and blow drying my hair would take at least 45 minutes. When I finish drying and then curling my hair and apply light lip gloss and mascara, I walk out to find my clothes set out for me. Madison has a weird obsession with my clothes, she's always said she liked them more than her own. She set out for me a black short sleeved top, which exposed my midriff slightly, pink denim shorts, and black and gold sandals. Once I'm dressed, I walk downstairs to meet her so we can go. But apparently, I'm "not ready yet". She secures a good triangle silhouette necklace around my neck and hands me a pair of golden stud pyramid earrings.

"Ok, now you're good." She gives me a double thumbs up. I smile.

I started heading for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Madison appears in front of me. I look at her as if she has 3 heads, and she crosses her arms as to say 'how can you be so blonde?'. I'm brunette.

"You have to fill out a form." She dangles a Manila envelope in front of me. When I hold it, I'm surprised to see how thick it is, the richness of the texture. This must have cost the royals a fortune and a half! As if the Selection wasn't going to be draining them enough!

I grab my best pen, and start to fill it out.

 _Name: Ainsley Grace Reynolds_

 _Age: 18_

 _Province: Bankston_

 _Caste: Theee_

 _Occupation: Novelist_

"Should I put down that I'm going to college?" I ask Madison, who was leaning over my shoulder.

"Sure, it can only help." I add to occupation I'll be attending Duszton Tech in the fall.

 _Hair Color: Dark chestnut brown_

 _Eye Color: Brown_

"Make sure you put down that you have freckles." Madison reminds me.

 _Skin Tone: Fair, dark freckles_

 _Height: 5'3"_

 _Weight: 110 lbs_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Spanish, French, a lot of Italian, some Portuguese, Sign_

I had always been proud of all of the languages I've learned over the years. It was a fascination for me. I was fluent in English and Spanish by 5, it took another year and a half to learn French, I'm almost perfect in Italian, and fair at Portuguese, but my mom wanted to take a break from language learning after French. She thought that two was good enough. But when Charlotte Zamner came to our school, and she was deaf, I knew that I needed to learn sign too.

 _Hobbies: Writing, reading, playing guitar, learning languages, daydreaming, stargazing_

Madison reads over my form before we head to the Service Office.

"Would you stop being so thorough? It's almost annoying." Something inside me deflates, but I try to pick myself up.

"Better than not having enough, I guess." I will never be as good as Madison at comebacks, which is quite unfortunate really.

"Fine."

The first thing that we notice when we head to the Service Office to drop off my form was that there weren't too many people at this hour. _Lucky them_. I thought. _They get to sleep in…._

But the line grows bigger with every passing minute, and soon the line goes almost around the block! Out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of my friends, Rebecca Braun get into line, dressed effortlessly to perfection, her auburn hair in an intricate updo. Immediately I'm jealous.

 _There's no way I'm going to get in when they have REBECCA!_ I feel pained. If they have the option, they're going to pick the girl that's prettier. Funnier. More clever. Talented. More popular. And Rebecca was all of those things.

Madison watches my line of vision.

"Don't worry about it. You have the same shot she does." She gives my hand a squeeze.

I smiled wide as the cameraman took my picture. _Here's my shot._

…

"PLEASE Penny!" my foster-sister Lacey begs. I refuse to give and she's getting frustrated.

"I still don't even understand why!" I yell, exasperated.

"You can't possibly expect me to enter the Selection _alone!_ "

"Why not!?"

She huffs. "Not everyone's as independent as you Penelope Foster."

"And don't I know it." I smile smugly.

"Penny come on!"

"Nope!" I quip over my shoulder as I go to grab an apple or something.

"PENELOPE ELIZABETH FOSTER I SWEAR IF YOU DO NOT SIGN UP FOR THE SELECTION I WILL MAKE SURE YOU ARE PUT BACK IN THE SYSTEM." She yells for roughly half of Fennley to hear. I'm not sure if it's an empty threat or not, but I'm not even sure I can take that risk.

"Fine." I growl. The system was indescribable, except for maybe Hell. Normally they send you off to some random stranger and hope that they don't murder you. I've been used as a slave, starved, hit, and ignored for weeks at a time. I just remember being so guarded when I came to live with the Scotts. It had to have been a couple months until they won me over. They've kind of adopted me, but that takes a whole bunch of legal stuff and keeping me as a foster kid was just easier when they knew they weren't going to give me up. Plus, the money isn't hurting. Hey! They need _something_ to pay for college!

"Wait really?" Lacey jumps up and down, squealing.

"Just shut up."

"Ok, ok. My lips are sealed!" she runs to her chestnut saddlebag and pulls out two manila envelopes.

"What are those?"

"Selection forms! Duh!" She tells me, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She tosses one to me, plus a pen, and we unfold them to fill them out.

 _Name: Penelope Elizabeth Foster_

 _Age: 16_

 _Province: Fennley_

 _Caste: 7_

 _Occupation: Foster child/ newspaper reporter_

 _Hair Color: Light chestnut brown_

 _Eye Color: Blue_

 _Skin Tone: Fair_

 _Height: 5'6"_

 _Weight: 130 pounds_

 _Languages Spoken: English and French_

 _Hobbies: Reading, writing, singing_

Lacey looks over my form for approval. She laughs at my last hobby.

"You are _not_ putting that down!" I do love to sing, but that doesn't mean that I'm even remotely good at it. In fact on a scale of 1 to 10, one being the worst, I think I was a -27.

"Too bad. It's pen, its not like you can erase it." She sticks her tongue out playfully at me, and I laugh in response.

"You know that I would never actually give you up right?" Lacey drawls as we stand in a 5 million hour line to get our pictures taken. "I wanted a sister _so_ badly! It took forever to get Dad on board, but Mom was _ecstatic!_ " This all makes sense. Lori (mom) actually _does_ feel like my mom, even though I was 12 when they took me in, but Jim… I don't know, he just doesn't feel like my dad. Most of the time he pretends I don't exist; not that he's ever around anyway. Maybe if he were an elementary school teacher like Mom, and not some fancy pants surgeon who works around the clock, he wouldn't pretend I was invisible. Maybe I would be comfortable calling him Dad instead of Jim.

"I know." I mumble. "Don't ever threaten that again though, ok? I was legitimately freaked out. I mean, that's taking my entire livelihood away. I don't know if I can live being a 7 when I've spent the last 5 years as a 3!"

"Oh right! Sometimes I completely forget you're a 7! They're all sloppy and dangerous and uneducated, and you're the exact opposite!" I know it was supposed to be a compliment, but it kind of hurt. This is the only time I didn't like Lacey, she could be really stuck up without even trying. "Plus, who would I have to play dress up with all day?" She flashes me a wink. "By the way that outfit looks adorable on you! Mint is the PERFECT color for you! It brings out your eyes!" Lacey was clearly convinced that I was her Barbie doll and picked out my entire outfit, AND did my hair and makeup. But at least she has talent at it. She's stuck in between 2 fashion castes: Personal Stylist (4) and Fashion Designer (2). If she made it to the Elite and got bumped up to a 2, there's no doubt in my mind she'd be a fashion designer. Lacey had dressed me in my favorite white lace top and paired it with a mint pair of shorts. She let me pick out accessories (with her approval) and I chose chestnut leather sandals and a worn faded gold key necklace. She strained my already naturally strait chestnut hair and left it down, and applied small cats eyes and light pink lip-gloss. "And your hair looks best strait, and your eyes with cats eyes. And-"

"Wait, why are you telling me this?"

"When I marry Prince Carter and become queen, I'll have a country to run! I have to tell you this now in case I forget!"

"Ah, so you're dead set on being Selected huh?"

"Uh hu. I've dreamed of the Selection since I was 6 and learned what it was! You know that!"

"I wasn't even with you when you were 6." I point out.

"You know what, that's true. You get a pass on that one." She straitens her dress. "Do I look ok?" Lacey probably picked out her outfit weeks ago. She coordinated it to perfection: a strapless carnation pink dress with an expandable bust and white sewn detailing, a silver dream catcher necklace, a parallelogram silhouette silver bracelet and white pair of embellished thong sandals. She made me redo her long blonde hair 50 million times before it was in "the perfect fishtail". Her brown eyes were brought out by eyeliner and mascara, and a bit of light eye shadow and lip-gloss tied everything together. She looked like one of the Selected already! I made sure to tell her just that.

"You think so?" She beamed.

"Of course! If you don't get chosen I don't know who will!" She coos and hugs me.

"Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best sister ever!"

...

"Hello, welcome to Sundown. Party for 6?" I ask the group in front of me.

"Yes please." said the woman courteously. It was so easy to see that the group was a family: the woman has streaks of grey in her red hair, and her husband was almost full out if not for a bit of black mixed in with the white. There was an older teenage boy and a lower-medium aged teenage girl, both with black hair, and two other redheaded boys, one who seemed just younger than the black haired boy and one that was just older than the girl. I picked out 6 menus and told them to follow me as I led them to their table. I told them that I'd be back to check up on them later as my best friend Lillia Hardigan came in to take their order. She had been looking for a job, and a waitress wasn't one of the best, but we paid her well. Anything we can do for my best friend since age 5. Once she had taken their drink order, she came over to me, trying to stifle a laugh.

"They haven't stopped staring at you since you walked away."

"Do I know them?"

She lightly smacks the side of my head. "Stop it with your naïveness!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not a word."

"Ehhhhh! Shut up! That guy likes you!" She motions to the black haired boy.

"No he doesn't! Don't be ridiculous!"

"He thinks your hottttt!" She teases, following me around as I head back by the entrance of my parents restaurant.

"My _god_ could you stop?"

"Nope!" I cover my ears and wait until she walks away.

It wasn't until I came back to ask if they needed anything else that I learned Lillia was right.

"My son and I think that you're simply gorgeous!" The woman exclaims. I feel a thick blush coming on my cheeks.

" _Mom!_ " The boy groans sharply. The woman doesn't seem to care and ignores it.

"Have you signed up for the Selection?"

"No…" I hesitate.

"Ugh you _must!_ You're such a stunning girl, and so polite! Isn't that right Quin, honey?" She asks her husband.

"Quite stunning Olivia." He's quick to agree. I can feel myself becoming more bashful by the second.

"You know, I've always _dreamed_ of having a daughter in the Selection! But my only daughter, Aria, is 15: only a year young! If Theo here was a girl," She points to her raven haired son, "he would _definitely_ be entered!" The boy looks mortified. _I know how he feels…_ "What's your name, darling?"

"Waverly. Waverly Bennett."

"Waverly like the Province?"

"Yes ma'am, it was my mother's maiden name."  
"Lady Waverly. Ugh! That just sounds perfect! Doesn't it Quin?"

"Quite perfect Olivia." Her husband agrees again.

"Well, Waverly, you had better sign up for the Selection." She wags a finger at me. "Oh it will be simply wonderful to be able to say that _we_ convinced her to enter the Selection! Won't it be simply wonderful Quin?"

He agrees with her as I take this opportunity to bow out gracefully and leave them to their outlandish ideas.

 _Me! Just think! Me entering the Selection! That's ludicrous!_ I roll my eyes and mutter to myself.

"If you don't stop mumbling now you'll never stop." Lillia informs me. I say nothing. "You were there a while, what were you talking about?"

I take a deep breath. "They thought that _I_ should enter the Selection! Isn't that crazy!"

She ponders briefly. "Well, it wouldn't be _so_ crazy…"

"Lillia! Look at me! I'm not Princess material!"

"Don't sell yourself short." she picks up the tray of food my dad just handed her and walks off, leaving me with only my thoughts.

 _But what if I did enter. What if I get in and fall in love and win. But then what if I don't enter. I can't get in and I don't have to worry about "what if". I'll work at the front counter of my parent's restaurant, or be a hostess or whatever, for the rest of my life. I'll never surf competitively. I'll never leave my province._

 _Ughhhhhhh! This happens all of the time! For the strangest reason, I have this phobia of missed opportunities, almost like if I don't jump on it I'll miss the rest of my life._

 _Even if I wasn't to win, I could at least be a 3…. and if I made it to the Elite I'd be a 2. Then I'd be a profession surfer… It wouldn't necessarily be hard to enter the job, my caste is my only obstacle._ I laugh to myself. _Wesley would kill me if I was a professional surfer and he wasn't, he was the very one who taught me._ I smirk a bit. _That reason alone makes it almost worth it…_

I take a look at the clock: 9:32. I could easily take my break now and be back in like, 20 minutes, right?

I quickly run into the break room and grab the manila envelope I had just received this morning from the trash where I had put it. I begin to fill it out.

 _Name: Waverly Genevieve Bennett_

 _Age: 18_

 _Province: West Paloma, former California Peninsula_

 _Caste: 4_

 _Occupation: Maître D_

 _Hair Color: Dark-chestnut brown_

 _Eye Color: Medium-light brown_

What use does this have? I think. Then it got ridiculous. But I begrudgingly answered every question.

 _Skin Tone: lightly sun kissed_

 _Height: 5'5"_

 _Weight: 125 pounds_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Spanish_

 _Hobbies: Surfing, reading, playing guitar, running_

I quickly change into something a bit prettier than my navy blazer and matching pencil skirt uniform, required by my parents to wear. Not the best for getting my photo taken… I find my light grey and white striped long sleeved shirt and light pink skirt with the bow on the waist and dress myself. I slip on white converse high tops and pull the front of my hair back with a rhinestone clip. _Easy._ Taking a last look in the mirror, I head out the door.

…

"One, two, three go!" I take another shot of vodka.

"Woohoo! You're not letting up easy." My friend Lexie Lia remarks. Don't let her job as a lingerie model fool you; Lexie is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. But she can't handle too much alcohol at one time. No one can beat me at a drinking, but Lexie can't even come close.

"Nope. I'd just give up now if I was you."

"Never!"

So we kept up with our drinking game. I won, of course. No one has ever beaten me at drinking. Ever.

My brother Tyler's underground poker club was my usual Saturday night hangout, and tonight was no exception. Guys surrounded us begging for some "fun" (which annoys the Hell out of me) and in the midst of our drinking, my other best friend, sports model Blake Jackson, had gone off to make out with some guy at the club. They could currently be seen, half naked and smushed together, near the slots machine. I knew Lexie wanted to get in on the fun, and she had her selection of very hot and very eager guys displayed every 5 centimeters, but I knew that she wouldn't, even if I asked her. She knew I didn't want to and I would have nothing to do, so even as wasted as she was, she was loyal enough to hold off. _Lexie you are the best friend ever._

"So what do you want to do?" She slurs, twisting a strand of blonde hair around her finger. I just shrug. We were both absolutely wasted; it takes almost no alcohol to get her drunk, and I had faced several guys in shots (and beat them all), with Lexie cheering me on, before they all gave up. We were both getting bored and in my experience, that only lead to trouble.

All of a sudden my boob started buzzing. Lexie giggled.

"What's that?" She drawls. I pull out my phone. "Ohhhhh."

I press talk. "Ya?" I mumble. There's no response. "Hello?"

"Ummmm….. Kaiti?"

"Ya?"

"Kaiti Owens _don't_ tell me you're out drinking again! At Tyler's?" I can hear the distress in her voice.

"Mom?" I ask confused.

"No! It's Scarlett!"

"Ohhhhhhhh…. Ya, Tyler's." She groans. "Hold on a sec." I pull the phone from my ear. "It's Scarlett." I tell Lexie. I faintly hear an "ohhhhhhhh" in the background.

"Kaiti? Are you still there?" I hear on the other line.

"Ya."

She sighs. "I'm telling you, you need to get out of there!"

"And leave like you?" I ask, anger tipping into my voice.

"Well… yes."

"No!"

"Come on! You're a _better person_ than this!" She knows…. that's the only thing that could even close to get me into doing what she wants. And being so drunk… no better time. "Hello?"

"What do you want?" I growl at her.

She takes a huge breath. "I want you to enter the Selection."

"Huh? Why?"

"It could be your ticket _out!_ It would be _great_ publicity for your blog-"

"Fashion vlogs." I correct her.

"Right, great publicity!" She continues. "It would provide you with a safe environment, and it would be good to be sober a bit. But most importantly, it will give you better influence and you'll be a better person! You need to lead by example!"

I scoff. "You mean like you did?" She hesitates.

"Think about it, ok?"

I snap my phone off.

"So, want to enter the Selection?"

"Ya! Sure!" Lexie giggles.

"OK, we need to back to my house, we have the forms, one of them is Scarlett's and she moved."

"Ok!"

It takes some digging around our empty mansion before I find 2 thick manila forms addressed to me and my sister. I get 2 pens from a drawer and click mine open.

 _Name: Kaitlyn Madison Owens_

 _Age: 18_

 _Province: Sumner_

 _Caste: 2_

 _Occupation: Fashion Vlogger_

 _Hair Color: Brown_

 _Eye Color: Blue_

 _Skin Tone: Pale_

 _Height: 5'4_

 _Weight: 130 lbs_

 _Languages Spoken: English, French_

 _Hobbies: Designing, vlogging,_

"Is what I'm wearing ok?" I ask her. I didn't change from clubbing, a black dress with sheer lines, almost like stripes, tall black heels which seemed to go with my dress well, onyx square shaped drops, and my hair was up in a messy ponytail. Perfect for clubbing, but for signing up for the Selection?

Lexi giggles. "Yeah!" Who am I kidding? There's no chance I'll get in, so who cares? "Me?" Lexie's wearing a black crop top and a bright pink pencil skirt with sky high heels, designed by the model herself.

"Perfect. Ok, lets go!" We take our forms and walk to the town hall, where we had to wait in an hour line. It's honestly grueling.

"This was not a good idea." She tells me. We're getting impatient.

"Oh well, we made it this far."

She laughs wistfully. "I'm never getting drunk again."

Needless to say we were drunk again the next night.

…

 _ **OK GUYS! Hope you liked it!**_

 _ **Ainsley is the work of ScarlettBrinnleyBrookson**_

 _ **Penny was done by jenhen48**_

 _ **Waverly was written by my good friend Thirteenth17**_

 _ **Kaiti is written by my OTHER good friend Demigod-Gallagher-Selected.**_

 _ **THANKS FOR SUBMITTING!**_

 _ **Keep sending me Apps guys! No more 2s or 3s if possible, as many lower caste girls as possible. And I think I want 3 8s, so send me 8s!**_

 _ **LOVE YOU GUYS!**_

 _ **-Lily**_


	3. Don't Look Back

**Outfits are on my Polyvore!**

"No?"

"No."

" _No?"_ I emphasize, growing angry.

"No, Eponine! My answer is no." I'm in shock. _Have I ever been turned down before?_ I'm a 5, sure, but my looks and alluring personality usually get me any guy that I want. Until now, I guess.

"Wait, I don't fully understand-" He grips my hands.

"Eponine. You just started making out with me. You want a one night stand. You're a wonderful girl, but my answer is no." I'm dumbstruck.

"But-"

"I sincerely hope we can still be friends." Letting go of my hands, he walks away. Just like that. The first time I've ever been turned down. The realization of what just happens hits me suddenly like a slap to the face. I storm out of the tent.

How _humiliating!_ This wasn't _fair!_ That wasn't _kind_ or _charismatic_ or _funny_! This just wasn't Race.

When I was 16 years old I started preforming with Extravagant Silence Circus. And it was because of _Race!_ I gave up my entire _life_ for him! I was a singer back then. I was popular. I had a boyfriend, even. But Sam "Race" Brevin rode into my life on a gallant steed and galloped away with my heart. I only knew him a week when I joined the circus to be with him. I was sure we would get married one day. He taught me everything that I know about equestrian trick rider, and we're main acts _together_. And he just ruined it all.

Or did I ruin it? A small voice in the back of my head whispers. But I shut this thought down immediately. Of course _I_ didn't ruin it! I _felt_ the spark! He was just too stupid to realize it bec _AUSE_ MEN _ARE IDIOTS!_

I don't understand how this could have happened.

I march my way into my dressing room trailer and flop on my hard uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling. I demand too much for the circus to really afford me. Ticket sales haven't been good recently, and I keep demanding more and more. I'm robbing them blind and they aren't doing anything to stop it.

 _Soon they're going to be bankrupt._ I realize, glaring at the crack in the plaster ceiling of my trailer. _Then how will they pay me?_

Suddenly, an idea strikes.

She fished the Selection form in her trash can where she had thrown it haphazardly, thinking that she would have spent the night with Race.

You see, tonight was a particular night. There was a reason she had chosen September 18th to finally make her move on her secret love of almost 2 years.

It certainly wasn't because the Selection had been announced that night. No, that was a complete coincidence.

It was because in 17 minutes, she turned 18 years old.

It would certainly be something important to be able to tell your children that on the day you turned an adult, was the first day that you and their father had fallen in love. That was the plan, anyway. Clearly no such thing happened.

I bit my lip and felt myself struggle to not shed tears. _Come on Eponine! You're better than this!_

I grabbed the nearest writing utensil, just to find that it was out of ink and that I needed another. I instead grabbed a pencil.

 _Name: Eponine Anastasia Newton_

 _Age: 17_

Once I realized my mistake I quickly erased it and wrote my new age; or at least my new age in another 12 minutes. I figured it was close enough. I was now also glad my pen hadn't worked.

 _Province: Yukon_

 _Caste: 5_

 _Occupation: Equestrian Trick Rider for Extravagant Silence Circus_

 _Hair Color: dark brown/black_

 _Eye Color: grey_

 _Skin Tone: pale_

 _Height: 5'10_

 _Weight: 118 lbs_

I silently laughed. A healthy weight for someone as tall as me, even with a small frame, is at LEAST 140 lbs. But I was proud of my slim size, even if it meant I wasn't exactly the most healthy of people for how much I exercise.

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: 11_ _th_ _Grade at Park Creek Public High school_

 _Languages Spoken: English, some French_

 _Hobbies: Trick riding, taking care of horses, acrobatics, training, reading, singing._

I hesitated on my last two hobbies, but realized that I didn't want to sound horse obsessed. I do have other hobbies… most not appropriate enough to write down.

I smooth out my dark turquoise tight fitting cotton shirt and made sure my tight black skinny jeans were tightened and had the remaining fabric tucked into my dark brown riding boots. I quickly put my dark hair into a messy ponytail, leaving plenty of loose strands to frame my face.

Maybe instead I would be able to tell my kids that the day I became an adult was the day I learned that her first love was an _idiot_ and how not to get your hopes up. This was the day I learned what it meant to move on.

And with that I picked up my form and strutted out of my tent for one of the last times.

…

"Oh my god Chancy! You aren't signing up?" Olivnia Spencer, or as I like to call her Oh-kill-me-a, screeches. She's one of the most annoying people I think I've ever met. And I think if she calls me "Chancy" one more time, I swear I'd have to kill her.

"No." I tell her flatly. Signing up for the Selection would be something Albany would do. And despite her being less than a year younger than me, we are NOTHING alike. Not that I'd want to be anything like my dead sister...

"Come onnnn! We could do it together!" She reasons, tugging my shoulder. I cringe.

"Nah, she wants to date me, don't you Chance?" Ray Sindmore sends a wink in my direction, and I feel the need to throw up.

"No you loser! She's not interested in an idiot like you! She can actually set her bar high. You want the Prince, don't you Chance?" His twin Raven also winks at me. I start to feel a twinge of admiration for her.

"Of course." Not. Albany was the one who always liked Prince Carter, I was the one who set my sights somewhere else. Some other 2 or 3, someone very hot and famous. Not some dingy 7, and not a stuck up 1. I'm not a caste climber or anything, but I deserve a life better than the one I have now, and I know I can get that.

"So you are signing up then?" Olivia presses.

"I don't know, I might, I might not." I say flatly.

"You have to!" Olivia drawls, clearly thinking that her opinion will somehow persuade me. _Olivia what you have to say does not matter to me!_ How I see it, this group is just temporary. I dont care for any of them, and at the end of the day, they're more my followers than my friends. I'll make friends when I'm a 2 and _not_ a 7 living in the slums of Sonage. Then my friends will be socialites, or actresses, or models, or singers, or other A-listers that I can enjoy the presence of.

"I dont have to if I dont want to." I harshly remind her. She doesnt even flinch.

"Come on. There's no way you're not! The 'It-Girl' isnt entering the Selection?" Reasons Raven.

"You'd be a great queen." Continues Shauna. See, this is a lie. I'd make a HORRIBLE queen, I can admit that.

"Yeah! You'd be able to speak up for us, you know?" Tyler adds.

"Like how Queen America did!" Whitney pipes up.

"God knows you look enough like her!" Uriah laughs. "The red hair, blue eye look. You know? And plus the low caste." I might have the same features as the old Queen America, but that doesnt mean I look anything like her. She's like a flower, I'm like a hurricane. She just looks daintier than me, like porcelain. And I'm like steel. Saying I look like Queen America Schreave was saying The moon looks like the sun. They both illuminate, but you can't begin to compare the two.

"Yeah! And with your looks, there's no CHANCE you wont get in!" giggles Izzy. "Get it? Chance? Thats her name." She looks around the alley, hoping one of us would laugh. Besides Peter, nobody.

"Fine. I'll go." I grumble.

"OMG REALLY?" Olivia looks elated. "I'll go with you!"

"Me too!"

"Not without me!"

"Common! Me too!"

"Me three!"

"You're not going without me!"

Countless voices trail me as I walk away. They're all convinced they're coming with me to sign up for the Selection, which was not the plan.

"No." I end that immediately. "Raven, you can come with me. No one else." I glare at them, daring them to disobey me. Olivia looks like she's about to cry, and hangs her head in shame. A lot of the other girls stare at their toes, or mumble a sorry. It's the boys who dont seem to fazed, except for a couple of them who dont want me to sign up at all. They think that I'd marry within my caste, which I wouldnt. Ever. If I dont get at least a 4 I'm not getting married. I dont deserve this life.

Raven, looking as happy as I've ever seen her, stops by my house so I can grab my letter. Immediately I recoil at the fact of how thick and rich the paper is. _How can they afford to have such epensive paper but not keep my sister alive and keep bums off the street and help save families from starvation._ I think blandly. The thought angers me. This was EXACTLY why I didn't want to sign up in the first place! I'm not here to entertain them by prancing around trying to make a spoiled Prince fall in love with me!

But then I think of Albany. Sweet, innocent, impossibly charming Albany. And I know I have to enter for her. She had always dreamed of entering.

So Raven and I pick up the form and go. I don't even change. It's not like I can afford many clothes, but a lot of them are Albany's from when she was 12. She was bigger than me at the time, and the clothes were big for her because we bought them up a bunch of sizes, but now, inevitably, they were small on me. I wore a snug grey tank top with spaghetti straps, and charcoal short shorts and worn out blue converse. My hair is in a messy bun.

While waiting in the line to get my picture taken, Raven fetches me a pen so I can fill out my form.

 _Name: Chance Lilac Huntly_

 _Age: 17_

 _Province: Sonage_

 _Caste: 7_

 _Occupation: bar girl_

 _Hair Color: red_

 _Eye Color: blue-silver_

 _Skin Tone: pale, freckled_

 _Height: 5'2_

 _Weight: 102 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: 12_ _th_ _grade_

 _Languages Spoken: English, some Spanish_

 _Hobbies: Yoga, Shopping, Dancing_

I also like dogs, so I put down that I train them, even if that isn't true. I realize that my application doesn't sound very interesting, so I PRAY that my picture is good enough to get me Selected. It's no secret this competition isn't a lottery. So I need to set myself apart appearance wise.

When it's my turn, instead of smiling, I give a dramatic look. I look stunning, unmoving, flawless. There, I think, that's bound to get me noticed.

…

"Hey homo!" Kile Rush gets in my face so violently I want to cry.

"Kissed any girls lately, Eden?" His nasty almost-girlfriend Annie Grace spits. See, this was almost unusual. They almost never recognize I had a name! Usually they call me "homo" or "freak" or even "ginger", never Eden! This was progress, sadly enough.

"No! I'm not gay!" I lie. I have no idea how the rumors of my sexuality came to be, but no matter how many times I deny it, no one will take me seriously. I'm pretty sure Kile single handedly ruined my entire life. A rumor like this will destroy you in my small town of Avendael. And considering this'll be my home for the rest of my life... I inwardly shudder at my inevitable future.

"Are you sure homo?" My eyes feel a bit wet and I will myself not to cry.

"I swear can you PLEASE just kill yourself? Homosexuality is sin!" Madeline Bridges asks, almost innocently. Her tone scares me. It's like I'm actually a monster; I should actually die. Sometimes the possibility is tempting...

"Well I'm not a homosexual!" I yell at them.

"Could you stop _lying_ to us? It's bad enough we have to deal with a _real-life_ gay person!" a girl whispers to her friend.

"I understand why they're bad now, horrible influences! My mom says that they're dangerous!" She converses back. The first girl gasps.

"PLEASE tell me you aren't contagious!" another girl prays to me.

"Could you all _STOP IT_?" I've completely had it with all of them. I've been dealing with this for _4 years!_ Enough is enough! "I'm _not gay_!" Kile and Annie snicker. "You know what?! I'll PROVE IT!" I'm yelling now.

"How?" Annie looks at me like I'm poisonous, which clearly all of them think I am.

" _I'm_ entering the Selection!" A couple gasps go through the crowd, mixed in with plenty of scoffs and bad words.

"Entering doesn't prove anything." Annie sneers. "And you're too ugly to get in! It's not as much of a lottery as they say it is, don't ya know?"

"Come on Annes, she's too dumb to know!"

I storm out of the school and walk all the way back to my house. Coincidentally only a 5-7 minute walk.

I'll show them. I'll show ALL OF THEM! I'm completely and utterly TIRED of this!

And you know what? Today is the very last day they're allowed to tease me. Either I'll be Selected, or I'll leave the town. That's final.

I entered my house with a stuffy nose and red eyes. Not the best sight... But after leafing through our mail and finally finding the cream colored envelope, I raced upstairs before my parents could see me. They didn't know about any of this: my sexuality nor the bullying (clearly, today was not one of my worst days, but then again it's rare that Neanderthal teenagers such as Kile and Annie come up with good insults) And I wasn't about to tell them. Sure, they're as supporting as parents could get, but I could never tell them about me. They're as conservative as everyone else in this bloody town.

I figure what I'm wearing is fine, black leggings with an oversized cream sweater with two large salmon stripes and brown leather riding boots and a salmon scarf that matches my sweater. I fixed my hair a bit, and pulled the top part of my hair back and kept the rest down. Kind of a messy-sexy look. Maybe? Or at least, it did to me.

In the comfort of my room, I quietly filled out the Selection form.

 _Name: Eden Ashlee O'Malley_

 _Age: 16_

 _Province: Likely_

 _Caste: 4_

 _Occupation: Jeweler/Store Attendant_

 _Hair: Red_

 _Eyes: Pale green-grey_

 _Skin Tone: Pale_

 _Height: 5'8"_

 _Weight: 126 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: 10_ _th_ _at Oakwood High, Avendael, Likely_

 _Languages Spoken: English and Spanish_

 _Hobbies: Writing, skiing, snowboarding, reading_

I figure I have to tie my list to my job somehow, and my hobbies list looks slim, so I add designing and creating jewelry and figure I'm ok.

I have to reapplying makeup because of the tears and triumphantly match down the stairs.

"I'm signing up for the Selection." I declare. My mom's making coffee and looks surprised, to say the least. My dad wears a matching expression and has on his glasses while is sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. I have no idea what could possibly be newsworthy around here, but I assume it's the lavish parties the 2s and even some 3s are throwing for their daughters. Sucks for you partygoers, I'm getting Selected.

I march out the door and don't look back.

 **I support Gay Marriage. Duh.**

 **Eponine was submitted by shadeslayerprincess111**

 **Chance was submitted by Thirteenth17**

 **Eden was submitted my Demigod-Gallagher-Selected**

 **Tell me what you thought of all of them in the reviews! Who was your favorite? Who was your least favorite? What can I improve on? LET ME KNOW!**

 **Wow guys! We're almost CLOSED! Get your characters in soon! And remember, it isn't first come first serve, so make your character as interesting as possible so they get Selected!**

 **KEEP SUBMITTING GUYS!**

 **ALSO my bestie DGS just created a new SYOC! SO submit to that! AND read Thirteenth17's phenomenal story too!**

 **Xoxo,**

 **Lily**


	4. Never Back Down

**Outfits on my Polyvore**

"Juno Peter, so happy to have you." Daniel Marrow, host of Spectrum Effect, greets me.

"Happy to be here." I put on an award-winning smile.

"So tell me, have you entered the Selection?"

I grin broadly, smoothing my olive green v-neck dress and playing with my jagged black stone earrings. "I haven't actually."

"Really?"

"Well, I mean, not yet. I _plan_ to." I correct myself, trying to keep myself from adjusting my black strap ankle booties. They were feeling a bit tight around the ankles.

"You're one of the most successful actresses in Illéa, quite pretty, and everyone who's ever met you has fallen love with your down-to-earth and caring lifestyle. So tell me, why do you want to enter?" I pushed a lock of brown hair behind my ear. My (gorgeous) updo was loose and a lot of the strands were falling out.

"Well, first of all, thank you. Also," I pause. "I don't know; I kind of just enter everything." He laughs, as does the live audience.

"What's the craziest thing that you have ever entered?"

"Hmmm... Well I entered a bubble gum blowing contest once."

"And did you win?"

"Of course not! I hate bubble gum!" The audience cracks up.

"Well, no ones perfect I guess." Daniel and I laugh hysterically and the audience hollers.

"Guess not."

"So anyways, back on topic." He turns to the audience. "How about she signs up _here,_ people?" There's monstrous applause. I smile.

"Ok, ok! Fine!" There's more cheering. "But wait! I don't have a form!"

"Well, it's a good thing I've got one here then!" As he wags the cream envelope in front of me, the audience roars and I smile at them. "Ok, so lets start this thing!"

Someone hands me a clipboard, the letter, and a fancy pen.

" _Name: Juno Isla Peters"_ I almost hesitate, but I hope that no one notices. I have to use my stage name when on camera, for no other reason than I had wanted to make a name for myself without my parent's help. My father is a very famous opera singer, and my mother is a HUGE name fashion designer. My sister India took the same route as I did, swapping our family name "Michelson" for "Siren" when she broke into the modeling business. So basically I said Peters, but I really wrote down Michelson.

" _Age: 17_

 _Province: Waverly_

 _Caste: 2_

 _Occupation: Actress_

 _Hair Color: Dark Brown_

 _Eye Color: Kaleidoscope_

 _Skin Tone: Tan_

 _Height: 5'6.5"_

 _Weight: 130 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: High school graduate_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Italian, French, bits of German, Spanish, Swendish"_

There was a lot of applause, and I smiled. I learned a lot of my languages from various movies, one of the many plus sides to acting.

" _Hobbies: Acting, yoga, drawing, anything outdoors._ There! I'm done!" I exclaim. The audience claps.

"You ready for the picture?" Daniel asks me. I shrug happily.

"Ready as I'll ever be!"

…

"Hello Mother! Hello Father!" My sister, Diana Marie Claire Van Buren Ravenna, exclaims excitedly over the phone. "Hi, Piers, Bradley, and Cressida!" She says a bit less enthusiastically. "Blanche." She can't stand to acknowledge me, but she has to because she's on speakerphone and she sucks up to our parents like a starfish. My parents seem to think that my nickname "Blanche", given to me by my older siblings, Piers and Diana, is a term of endearment. They only gave it to be because I'm the only blonde in a family of brunettes (Blanche means "fair haired"), and they want to be dominant. But my parents smile at each other.

"Hello, Diana, darling! How is Dante?" My mother asks.

"Oh, he's perfect, as always!" My sister was absolutely smitten for her husband. Sometimes I wasn't certain if the love was entirely for him, or for his title as Duke of Italy. But whenever they were visiting, you couldn't mistake the glimmer of love in her eyes. In truth, she was absolutely head over heels for him. And I was jealous, but I kept that to myself.

"Of course he is!" My mother agreed. "Only the most perfect for you, my darling. Perfect is what perfect gets!"

"And the baby?" My father asks.

I could almost imagine my sister rubbing her full stomach. "He's good. Dante and I want to name him Marco."

"That's perfect, darling!" My father marvels. Of course he would be pleased, the baby was being named after him. Also, it's apparent to say that my family says the word "perfect" a lot. They call themselves perfect; they think that we're perfect. If we don't get perfect we didn't get it good enough.

"Cress?" Our attention turns to my youngest, and favorite, sibling. "How's piano going?"

"Very well, thank you!" Cressida beams. My 14-year-old sister would beat out all of the 2s, if she had the opportunity to take that up as a profession; she was very talented.

"Is Blanca entering the Selection?" Diana asks my mom. I fume silently. _Couldn't she have asked me herself?_

"I am." I tell her.

"Really? You didn't tell us that Blanca!" My mother embraces me. "I thought you didn't want to!"

"Yes, I just decided myself, it feels right." I report. That's how things worked in the Van Buren household, if it feels right you do it, and if it doesn't, you don't. At the end of the day, that was the deciding factor.

"Yes, it's perfect that you want to enter! No ancestor of Grace Illéa has ever been eligible before! The publicity will be phenomenal!" I'm a direct descendant of Grace Abbott, the very first winner of the very first Selection. I'm very proud of my lineage, and the caste I have because we strictly married only 1s. "I knew you were going to sign up Blanca, darling! You're so beautiful, and SO much more special than those other girls! You simply MUST get in! People are starting not to care about us anymore, this will bring all of the attention back!"

I can almost hear Diana's glares, and I start to feel smug. Finally, I'm worth something more than my sister in my parents' eyes. Finally I'll have their attention. Finally I won't be overshadowed by Piers' job as an advisor, or Diana's love life, of Cressida's prodigy at piano, of even Bradley's comedic timing. Finally the press will be about me!

"I must go," I tell them. "I would like to get my picture taken soon, and I need to change and fill out my form." I get up, and bid farewell to my sister over the phone. "Cress, do you want to come with me?" Cressida pops up and says her goodbyes to Diana.

When we're safely upstairs, I shut the door and begin talking immediately.

"Can you believe her? She couldn't even stand to address me!" I ramble.

"I know, I'm really sorry, Blancs."

"It's ok, I don't really care. It's just frustrating."

"I know." I sit next to her on my bed. "Hey! Lets fill out your form now!" She runs to my desk to retrieve the Selection Application and a blue pen.

 _Name: Blanca Grace Van Buren_

 _Age: Seventeen_

 _Province: Kent_

 _Caste: One_

 _Occupation: Socialite_

 _Hair Color: Beach blonde_

 _Eye Color: Ice blue_

 _Skin Tone: Fair_

 _Height: Five feet and four inches_

 _Weight: One hundred and fifteen pounds_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: Graduate of Agnes Dunwhich Preparatory Academy_

 _Languages Spoken: Fluent in English, Spanish, Greek, Dutch, Portuguese, Arabic, and French_

 _Hobbies: Reading, painting, writing poetry, yoga, running_

"Sound ok?" I ask my sister. After reading it over a couple of times, she says that it's perfect. I pick up my bag and we head out the door.

It isn't until now I realize I'm over dressed, when I'm surrounded by 2s and below. True, I hadn't known what to wear, so I assumed it would be an informal occasion. I wore a cream colored skater-style dress with a flowy cream chiffon skirt and a matching law bodice with a sheer neckline. One of my favorite casual dresses. I wear cream flat sandals with a pearl studded strap in the shape of a diamond, instead of the thong style, matching very well with my French manicure and pedicure, and I wear cream-blush pearl studs and a braided pearl strand bracelet. Lots of pearls, I know. But pearls were my favorite. I thought I looked perfect, and everyone I asked had agreed. But that was a mistake... I was stuck in between a paint splattered 5 and a grease stained 7, both of whom looked very uncomfortable. I toss a blonde tress over my shoulder. _When I thought it would be informal I did not mean this informal…_

If one of these girls gets Selected and not me, I'll be shocked.

…

I raced out of that bank as if it was on fire. The wind whipped my hair, and I felt sweat forming on my temples and under my nose. My feet were moving so incredibly fast I was completely sure I was going to trip. My breathing was steady from plenty of practice and experience, but it felt it speed up a bit, my heart rate pulsing. _Cassie Cassie Cassie._ My mind wouldn't cease the chant of my 8-year-old sister's name.

I can't help but smile. These chases used to distill a blinding fear in my heart. I knew what happened if they caught me: it was have Cassie and I thrown in jail or I would have to... Never mind, let's not talk about that. Now at least I could almost be sure I wouldn't get caught. I'm no longer 10, and I'm faster than they are from years and years of constant practice. The wind whipped my long, light brown hair behind me.

I practically threw myself out the French doors of the bank, making sure I was clutching that magenta leather purse as hard as I possibly could. This purse was my lifeline: If I didn't have it I had nothing.

I heard the sirens wail, but they became none other than simple background noise. The adrenaline fueled me as I raced down to streets to the nearest ally. The back allies of Zuni were the palms of our hands for Cassie and I. With our forced athleticism and desperate speed, once we got to an ally you could guarantee you cant catch us.

Quietly, I make my way to Cassie and I's house. Or- it isn't really a house, but we still have our things there. It smells because it's basically just a dumpster that I stole from outside a building, turned on its side and emptied. Two steel poles held up the lids, providing even more space for us. The oldest of ratty blankets were shrewn around the floor and a few pairs of wrinkled clothes were crumpled into a ball and stuffed into a corner of our "house". Sure, there was absolutely no space for anything, but it kept us protected when it was raining. Cassie crept out from behind the dumpster, fearfully, to see if it was me or not. Relief flooded her face when she saw it was only me. I waved at her and offered a warm smile as she waved Jake up. I ran to hug Cassie, and then Jake.

Jake was like my brother. At 17, he was trying to escape an arranged marriage to some snotty 4, and he ran away from home. He couldn't _stand_ the girl, nor the idea of being in an arranged marriage to a caste climber. So, he up and ran away. Jake used to be a 3, and it took him forever to get used to life as an 8. Just like Cassie and I. And we had been 5s! He found us a few months after he ran away, and we've been like a family ever since. Although, when he gets caught, it's a lot harder to save him from being arrested. Which makes me hate him more than imaginable.

Cassie, Jake, and I sit down in a circle on the dirt. I take the purse I stole off of a Two at the bank and empty out the contents in the middle of us, unzipping every pocket and making sure everything was out so we could examine the treasures. I noticed a wallet and tucked it away for later use. We leafed through tubes of lip-glosses and mascaras, with eyebrow pencils and tweezers. I noticed blush and eye shadow, and brushes to go with them. _Typical 2s._ I can't help but think. _Obsessed with their cosmetics._ Upon the piles of makeup, I saw a box of breath mints and tissues, a pair of sunglasses, brass keys, several fancy pens, and a pear, which I handed to Cassie. She devoured it in a couple of bites. The very last thing was a thick, creamy envelope. Since rarely anything even remotely exciting happened around here, we decided to open it.

The seal was made of soft wax and it held the royal symbol on it. I realized that whoever this chick was, she must be important. The paper was quite thick: maybe oak tag paper, or something like that. I felt dignified and rich, just from that envelope. What was in it must have been very important. I began to signal what it said.

Signaling was harder than speaking, but neither Jake, nor I, knew sign language. Cassie and I had to make up our own signals, because, well, she's deaf.

' _To the House of Sload:'_ Cassie giggled. This told us one thing about that girl: that her last name was Sload, and that she was single and 16-20 years old. ' _The recent census has confirmed that a single woman between the ages of sixteen and twenty currently resides in your home. We would like to make you aware of an upcoming opportunity to honor the great nation of Illéa._ _Our beloved prince, Carter Schreave,'_ I continued _, 'is coming of age this month. As he ventures into this new part of his life, he hopes to move forward with a partner, to marry a true Daughter of Illéa. If your eligible daughter, sister, or charge is interested in possibly becoming the bride of Prince Carter and the adored princess of Illéa, please fill out the enclosed form and return it to your local Province Services Office. One woman from each province will be drawn at random to meet the prince.'_

' _Participants will be housed at the lovely Illéa Palace in Angeles for the duration of their stay. The families of each participant will be generously compensated for their service to the royal family.'_ I finish signing. Cassie laughs a bit, at the sheer formality of the letter, but Jake smiles. I feel something off about his smile.

Cassie was born deaf, although my family didn't figure it out for several years. As rather poor Fives, we didn't have access to great medical care to fix her, nor money to get constant instructors to train her by memorization. We only even figured it out when she couldn't really talk and never seemed to understand us. But Cassandra Luca was the very highlight of my life. She was my only sibling, and though she lacked in verbal understanding, she made up for it by being the world's sweetest girls on the planet, and she couldn't hurt a fly. My parents kept her for a few years but then they decided that since she'd never be able to work, they couldn't spare the food and clothing and other expenses that come with a child. They were going to throw Cassie out on the streets at five years old. Could you imagine anything so cruel? They didn't see her beauty because they could only see that she couldn't work. They were too concerned about me, as if I was more important than her because I could hear. But before they could essentially send a 5-year-old to her death, I took Cassie and ran away. Life's harder with her, but far better than it would be without her.

I pull out one of the expensive looking pens from the girl's pile of junk and clicked it on.

Cassie looks absolutely giddy, reading my mind that I want to get in. Jake looks a bit nervous, but laughs.

"You're actually _signing up?_ Ooohhhhh in love with the Prince, are we?" He chuckles, but I ignore him.

 _Name: Kinsley Grace Luca_

 _Age: 18_

"Put down that you're from Venus." Jake tells me. I give him a look and he laughs.

 _Province: Zuni_

 _Caste: 8_

I knew I had to be careful about what I put down, I knew. Especially in my occupation. I'm pretty sure if I put down I was a pickpocket, I would be thrown in jail, not Selected.

 _Occupation: Street Preformer_

I was that too, so it wasn't even a lie.

"Hair color: purple." He giggles. I completely tune him out, clearly not wanting to take (nor hear) his suggestions.

 _Hair Color: light brown_

 _Eye Color: dark brown_

 _Skin Tone: tan, few freckles_

 _Height: 5'4"_

 _Weight: 100 lbs_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Italian, French_

Yes I know, I'm an 8 and I knew 3 languages. But I was 15 when I ran away from life as a 5, and by that point my mom had forced French and Italian on me, to help with singing. But it still increased my chances, as supposed to someone who only spoke one.

 _Hobbies: dancing, singing, drawing, playing piano, running_

Sure. Running away from cops, but who was concerned with technicalities?

I started making sure I looked ok, with my worn light blue tank top and ripped jean shorts and worn in blue converse. I didn't really have many other options, and certainly none that were less wrinkled or dirty than this.

"Ah, a fine specimen to substitute for firewood." Jake grabbed the letter from my hands. I snatched it back.

"Not a chance."

I quickly signaled Cassie, asking of she would do my hair, and put on some mascara and Chap Stick from the girl's bag. She quickly told me she would and set to work, pulling back most of my hair for a half crown braid and leaving strands to frame my face.

"Wait a second!" Jake exclaimed. I look up at him. "You're not really signing up, are you Kinsie?"

I give him a look. "Well why not?" He looks like he's going to say something, merely searching for the right words. Just as he's about to speak, I interrupt him.

"You're not talking me out of this. I'm going to pay for Cassie's surgery and you get a whole hell of a lot of money for being in this contest." He tries to interrupt. "Plus, I don't plan on spending the rest of my life as an 8, do you? Not only do I get to be a 3 after this, the money I constantly receive will let me elevate Cassie. And even you, maybe. But Cassie is my first priority and I need to do everything in my power to fix her. I'm doing this, and that's final." Jake looks a bit hurt. Cassie has no idea what we're talking about her, but she gets a concerned look on her face, knowing we're arguing. I try to keep calm for her sake.

"But is entering some dumb beauty pageant really the way to go about this? I know you hate those types of things." Cassie finishes my hair and I pop a mint in my mouth, a flavor that I don't necessarily like, but I feel like it can't hurt. The rest of the box I put in my jean short's back pocket for later use.

"You're correct, I do hate them. It's vain and superficial. But do you honestly believe that if there was something I could have done to help my sister and I _didn't_ do it I could _live_ with myself! My entire life will be spent devoted to Cassie. She is _all_ that matters." I say with finality, daring him to contradict me. My voice is laced with dominance, a protective barrier around me that makes me a warrior. He wouldn't dare, and instead goes to his improvised room as Cassie and I stand up and walk to the Zuni Services Office.

If I have something to fight for I'll never back down.

 **Juno is the work of B Y Orange**

 **Blanca was done by Thirteenth17**

 **Kinsley was done by jenhen48**

 **TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THINK OF THEM IN THE COMMENTS! Who's your favorite girl so far?**

 **I know that I'm going to do AT LEAST one more intro chapter, so you'll meet 2-4 girls in that. Do you guys want a Carter POV in that too? Tell me what you think of him in the comments!**

 **Thanks guys! Love you all!**

 **-Lily**


	5. We've Got A Problem

**TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY I'M ON A ROLL!**

 **Outfits on my Polyvore**

"What have I told you about saying no to me?" Emmett raises his voice. Tears fall down my cheeks.

"I know. I'm sorry!"

"SORRY?! You're SORRY? Oh, well if you're sorry then it's OK!" His voice reaches a dangerous point.

"No! It's not ok! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! It won't happen again!" Emmett face is red. "Please don't hit me." My voice quivers.

"Weak. You're weak Avalon. And you'd better be careful because next time I will." His face is murderous. I will myself not to cry, fleeing to my room before he changes his mind.

I don't even feel safe locking my door. I'd have to come out eventually, and I don't want to face him when I do.

I cry myself out and fall asleep. Emmett joins me eventually, but I don't feel him. But I'm awoken to him shaking me violently.

"Wake up. You need to make breakfast and clean the house. And take out the trash. You went to bed last night before you could finish your work, how dare you? Now this house is a mess and it's your fault. Don't eat until after you've finished your work. You don't get food until this house is immaculate, do you hear me?" His voice is forceful and I muster an "ok" before getting changed. This isn't the first time he's refused to let me eat. He wants me to be skinny so he can show me off to his friends. So tight clothing isn't an option. I wore a loose fitting white chiffon spaghetti strapped shirt with little birds, vintage light jean shorts, embellished cream sandals, and floral earrings. I threw my hair into a loose French side braid and left it hanging over my shoulder. After applying a bit of mascara and lip-gloss, I head to the kitchen to clean. _A proper housewife cleans. A proper housewife cooks. A proper housewife takes pride in her home._ My mother's words drilled in my head are played on repeat.

My mother set me up with Emmett Liyve three years ago. With us as threes, and him a two, she wanted what's best for me. She needed me to climb a caste. So the arranged marriage was set. I liked Emmett at first, I really did. But then he became... stricter. He only let me go to school or back; I couldn't talk to my friends outside of those eight hours. He wouldn't let me leave the house. We only really talk to his friends now, making them mine. Most of them are nice, but when they're drunk they can be dangerous. I try my best to hide in my room when they come over on Fridays, but they force me to come out and serve them drink. Sometimes Emmett forces me to do things I don't want to do while his friend's holler for me to do it to them. I don't like the clothes he has me wear at all- or lack thereof. But he would never go all the way. He's waiting until we get married, in a short two and a half weeks. I can't protect myself from him then... and I'm really nervous. But I do my best not to show it. _Be the proper housewife. A proper housewife cleans. A proper housewife cooks. A proper housewife takes pride in her home._

I start by cleaning the kitchen, starting by scrubbing the counters and dusting the windows, then sweeping and moping the floor. Then I begin to make Emmett's breakfast, an omelet. If I add in the wrong quantities he could lock me in my room and not let me eat. So I make sure I'm extra careful. When that's done, I take out the trash so I can let it cool before calling him down. And on the very top of the pile is a thick manila form addressed to Avalon Grey.

I pull it out and am immediately surprised about how thick it is. _What's so important he would hide it from me?_ I quickly skim the letter and feel a tear drip down my cheek. _This. This is my ticket out._ I begin to fill it out immediately, with haste so Emmett doesn't catch me.

 _Name: Avalon Camryn Grey_

 _Age: 17_

 _Province: Whites_

 _Caste: 3_

 _Occupation: Journalist for "The Whites Times"_

 _Hair Color: Light Honey Blonde_

 _Eye Color: Pale Green_

 _Skin Tone: Pale_

 _Height: 5'8"_

 _Weight: 110 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: 11th Grade at Kingsley High School_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Spanish, French, some Portuguese_

 _Hobbies: Writing, Reading, Photography, Singing, Drawing, Journalism_

"Emmett! Your breakfast is ready! I'm going grocery shopping!" I do my best not to race out of the house.

...

The music plays softly as my toes point in the perfect pirouette, gracefully turning into arabesque and going back to second position. I keep going on with the routine until finished, then readjust the strap of my black leotard and walk off the floor to the dressing room. Since I didn't sweat much, I decide my white tutu and black tights look fine enough, but change out of my point shoes and into white ballet flats. I keep by dark chestnut hair up in its tight bun, French braided in the back. As I walk out the door, my coach, Coach Abigail, stops me.

"Kalissa? We've got a problem."

"Coach?"

"You're just not... challenged enough. I can see it." I hang my head a bit, feeling my body deflate. "Did you even sweat at all today?" I nod my head slowly.

"No, Coach."

"I think you need to take a break?"

My head flips up. "WHAT?!"

"A break. Then you can come back and we can train you again. But seriously, you need a break."

"Oh." I guess the truth of the matter was, with 8 very successful dancing seasons in a row, I was getting a bit wary of the whole production. Maybe I did want a break.

"I think it's best, Kalissa. You can live more of your life! Go on a vacation! Meet a boy! Spend time with your family! Join the Selection, for all I care! But you deserve to live your life. You wont be 17 forever."

"Yes coach."

"Okay." She rubs my shoulders. "I'll see you in a couple of months. I'll shoot you an email when I think you've taken long enough." She tosses me a wink.

"Ok. Bye coach."

"Bye Kalissa."

"Kal! Hey! Where are you going?" My best friend Danielle Winters. Though she's a bit smaller than me, she's far faster and catches up in seconds, her long auburn hair falling behind her, her green eyes sparkling with her usual bubbly excitement.

"I'm 'on a break'" I use air quotes and complete it with an eye roll. Even if this is what I want.

Her face drops. "What?"

"Coach wants me to take a break from dance."

"What? But who will I have to dance with?" She moans. Danielle and I met when we were two and joined the ballet academy. We've been best friends since, and we've always been dancing side by side. She's not as gifted as I am, but she isn't bad by any stretch! She's good, in fact!

"I'm so sorry, Dani." She looks so upset, I feel horrible. "Hey, I think I'm signing up for the Selection, want to do it with me?" She perks up.

"Sure!" We head to my house to get forms and pens. She fills hers out quickly, all too excited to turn it in. I take a bit of time with mine.

 _Name: Kalissa Alexandra Lindeberg_

 _Age: 17_

 _Province: Dakota_

 _Caste: 5_

 _Occupation: Ballet Dancer at the prestigious Abigail Hawthorne Institution of Dance_

 _Hair Color: Dark brown_

 _Eye Color: Hazel with flecks of gold and green_

 _Skin Tone: Tanned_

 _Height: 5'7"_

 _Weight: 135 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Competed: Homeschooled until high school, Abigail Hawthorn Institution of Dance, currently junior year_

 _Languages Spoken: English, Russian, Italian, and some Portuguese_

 _Hobbies: Dance (ballet, jazz, tap), read, write (short stories, poems, songs), being with animals (specifically dogs and horses)_

We're all too excited to turn in your applications.

 **Avalon is by Demigod-Gallagher-Selected and Kalissa is by Kyramellark7**

 **Tell me what you guys think!**

 **ALSO I don't know if you guys noticed, but MY SYOC IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED! YAY!**

Ok, bye guys!

 **-Lily**


	6. This Isn't About What I Deserve

**Outfits on my Polyvore. As usual.**

 **I've decided to devote this chapter to my little sister, who turned 10 today! Happy birthday Alli! Love you!**

It's always been hard to find clothes that go with cotton candy pink and lilac Ombre hair. But with a hipster-bohemian style like my own, it kind of works out. And anyway, I love it regardless. It defines me, in a way. I dressed myself in an off white maxi dress with loose floraly-cheetah print maxi dress with black straps on the bodice. Kinda hard to explain, but really cute, I think! I paired it with gold drop earrings in all of the colors of my dress and black thong sandals with gold detailing. I threw my wavy hair into a loose bun and headed downstairs. Aunt Astrid gave me a kiss on the cheek as I walked into her kitchen, and my older brother Jeremie ruffled my hair and gave me a brotherly smirk. I gave him a side hug and a smile quickly.

"We've got to go catch that train! We'll grab something on the way, ok Riles?" Aunt Astrid grabs her purse and heads out the door. I look to Jeremie, who just shrugs, and follows her. Grabbing my phone and wallet, I follow suit.

While rushing on the street, desperate to catch the train into the Indian Emirates, we stop for food, because I haven't eaten yet today. I grabbed a baozi, a Chinese breakfast bun full of spinach, and bean paste, a very popular street food in the New Asian State of China, and we went back to our racing. Aunt Astrid needed to get into the Indian Emirates; she needs research for her new travel book about cultural garments. She was letting me be the model for it, and I couldn't be more excited! Aunt Astrid hands me a bag of clothing from different countries, and I begin to sift through it. It's mainly Indophilaysian, (a mix between Indonesian, Malaysian, and Philippian), with a mix of saris, ornate golden jewelry, and crazy golden headdresses. I try on a couple things, just playfully. I wish every second could be exactly like when I'm with Astrid, and even Jeremie.

Currently, I'm on my gap year. I'm training in diplomacy in the University, located in Angeles, in accordance with my father's wishes. He's in charge of state affairs in Illéa; call it a Secretary of state, or an Advisor of State maybe. When this is over, it's back with him, interning for four rigid years. I genuinely like diplomacy, but it isn't really all that fun. Not when I could be outside on a beautiful day, not when I could be stargazing on a clear night, not when I'm caged in diplomatic affairs and the other things in my rigid life. But, this is unfixable, and inescapable. This is the life I've been trained to live.

An attendee of the train interrupts me with the delivery of a letter. Our mail is especially slow, considering Astrid, Jeremie, and I have been on the move so much this year. I unwrap the letter she handed me, not before saying thank you, and smile slowly.

 _The Selection._

Aunt Astrid, who was reading over my shoulder, gasps. She snatches the letter from my hands, skimming over the form for a second time.

"Oh my god Riley! The Selection!" She presses the letter close to her chest.

"Are you signing up?" My brother asks me.

"I don't know. I mean-I don't know." I shrug my shoulders.

"Riley, you thank your sweet lord for this opportunity, and you fill that in." She wags her finger at me, giving me a stern look.

I giggle a bit. "You really think I should?"

"Can you just please fill it out? If you decide you don't want to, that you're happy as a future diplomat, we throw it out the window. M'kay?" Astrid's southern accent is getting strong, which makes my laugh. I can't say no to her!

 _Name: Ryseline Mirabelle White_

 _Age: Nineteen_

 _Province: Angeles_

 _Caste: One_

 _Occupation: Diplomat in training, currently nomad on a gap year_

 _Hair Color: Naturally light brown, died cotton candy, lilac, and pale blue Ombre._

 _Eye Color: Hazel_

 _Skin Tone: Fair, a bit tanned currently._

 _Height: Five feet and seven inches_

 _Weight: One hundred and twenty pounds, give or take._

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: High school graduate and accepted to the University, in Angeles, on deferred enrollment_

 _Languages Spoken: English, French, Hindi, Korean, Russian, Persian, Arabic, Mandarin_

 _Hobbies: Traveling, running, diplomacy, exploring, climbing, cooking, salsa dancing_

I show her the form, making sure it looks complete enough.

"Riley, I swear if they don't select you with _this_ form, I'm going to be in such a shock I wont be able to speak for days." She jokes, wrapping her arm around me and running my arm. I shrug, staring at my hands, but smiling at the same time.

"I don't really know if I can do it, Astrid."

"Ryseline Mirabelle White," Astrid cups my face in her warm hands, "you'd make a much better queen than almost everyone in Illéa. And beyond that, don't you want it?" She asks me.

Lets list all of the reasons to sign up for the Selection:

Prince Carter is…. pretty damn hot. I've had enough fantasies about him to last me a lifetime. Maybe it's a Prince thing, but I've done my fair share of research on every Illéan royal family in history, and they've all been outrageously attractive. Don't ask me how it's possible, because I'm not sure. I also have a theory that if a royal is born unattractive; they're given up for adoption. But I'd need to further my research, because I have no proof of this.

The royal palace looks spectacular. I've been there a couple times when I was younger, like, 8, and then again when I was 12. But Jeremie ruined it for me because he kept teasing me about things, like what I was wearing and my weight and petty stuff like that. God, he was so immature back then! But then again, I've never seen a 12-year-old sister and her 16-year-old brother ever get along. Not that I've even really seen a brother and sister with that age difference. Back then, we were too different. But now, I'd call us exactly the same. My mom calls him "Riley without boobs". Anyways, exploring the palace would be a dream! I've heard the views from the rooftops are _spectacular,_ and I bet they have great running trails too!

Prince Carter looks like he has really tuggable hair. Like, he looks like would be a _seriously_ good kisser. Maybe not one of the most important reasons, but I've had like, one boyfriend and a date with of my brother's friends in the 19 years of my life. It's kinda hard to have a love life with my over-the-top diplomacy lessons with my dad.

Have I mentioned that Prince Carter is really hot? Because _sweet lord_ he is…

He'll understand what it's like to be raised with super high expectations. Which is important, because people like that are far and few between. This would be a complete _load off_ for me, and probably comforting for him too. So see, that already sets me apart from everyone else! Plus, we're from the same caste! That should be kind of compelling, right? Kinda weird, maybe, but I'd call it a plus.

I'm going to be taking after my father. Once he's done being advisor for state, it's my turn. And how _cool_ would it be to be able to say I knew the queen of Illéa personally before she won? Maybe we'll even be friends! Maybe I'll make bets or something, I don't know. I just think that'll be cool. I mean, we'll have this whole history and stuff. And it would be _so much cooler_ to have to attend all those boring meetings both of our jobs entail, with our friend. I just think that would be amazing.

Prince Carter is _really_ hot, which is important.

I don't know, I could be a good queen, I think. Aunt Astrid thinks so, at least. And she's usually right about things, so I probably could be. I think that I have the skills I need and stuff, and I think the country could learn to love me.

I get to escape my internship for as long as I'm still in the contest, which is a big plus because I'm not really looking forward to going back. My dad can't make me dropout, because that would seem improper. So he'd be forced to accept it and move on. And I think I kind of deserve to stretch out my vacation until I absolutely cant anymore.

I think I'd pretty much kick myself for not taking this chance. How _stupid_ would I have to be, not to? This is a _once in a lifetime_ opportunity! I pretty much have to! Suppose I'm _supposed_ to be in, and I _didn't_ enter? God, how disappointing would that be. That'd suck.

There. Ten reasons. I'm entering.

And that's what I tell Astrid.

…

I quickly snapped a photo. Then another. And treaded along the Eventon's home's grass to take some more. I had to make them interesting; because the event the newspaper was having me cover wasn't going to be the most interesting article. The Eventon's were throwing "the most upscale Pre-Selection party in the country". It was supposedly a mix of a coming out party, and an "I'm so great, it's as if I was already chosen" type thing. But I don't really understand who in their right mind would care. Not my place to judge, maybe, but still. I had to make the pictures pop, so their eyes would be drawn to the piece. If there were any special comments about the photos, they could give me one of their better stories! Or at least, that's what they told me. But then again, I've gotten special comments before, I'm almost sure. No such promotion. But still, I have to do my best…

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lincon Maynes, interviewing one of the women who seemed to be planning the…. gala lets call it. My heart did a bit of a flip, but I cursed myself mentally. _Janie! You're over him!_

I am over him. SO over him. Lincon was my crush of practically forever. Or at least, since I started working at the newspaper. He's a three, and a journalist. Sometimes I helped him write the articles. He's not the best with grammar… The way I figured it, if we got married, I would be a three too, and I could be a journalist, like I wanted. Anyways, I'm trying to get over him. But I'm pretty sure I'm still madly in love…. which makes me feel outrageously guilty, but its so _hard_ getting over someone like Lincon….

I smoothed out my frizzy black curls. They were pulled back into a low ponytail, and braided at the front. I wasn't really sure what to do with my hair most of the time, so I pulled it back in some way. Ducking my head, I ran away from Lincon's possible sight line.

We were walking to the bus stop. Lincon and I. We did this every day-he knew that I feared walking alone when it gets dark because of possible attackers… I don't know what the mood was. He was acting all flirty with me, which made my heart dance. I could shamelessly feel myself falling in love again. He was like my poison- intoxicating in every way. His smile made it hard to keep my head strait and when he winked at me, it was hard to form a cosecant sentence. And we were just talking. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was nights like these when it was _so easy_ to see him and I for the rest of our lives. Married, with kids, everything. Every moment so clear and perfect, every second of the rest of our lives.

And then. And then he kissed me.

You may think this romantic: _Janie, isn't this exactly what you wanted?_ But it shocked me. This dark alley on the way to the bust station was not the time, nor place. He made me nervous. This place made me nervous. He knew I was afraid of harassment and unwanted sexual advances, why would he kiss me right here? I pulled away sharply.

"What was that?!" I shriek. I feel uncomfortably freaked out. _No. This was not what I wanted right now._

"Huh? Janie," He holds my hand, making me sharply inhale. "this is what you want."

"NO! You can't tell me what I want!" I pull it away and stalk off in the other direction. I try my best to swallow my fears, but I begin to cry. _I'm not safe. I'm not safe. I'm not safe._

This was the moment I realized I was completely over Lincon Maynes.

I ran the rest of the way home, racing into my bedroom in the back of my father's church. He was a volunteer pastor, as well as a painter. The church housed us, but we were in charge of everything else. But it made for interesting adventures as a child: Micah, Eli, and Ada, and my mom testing out the best acoustics for their instruments when we first moved in, Jakob trying to teach his wife Carlie about painting, and my dad joining them. My father's sermons every Sunday.

Rooms full of memories, memories of my life. I oozed my caste because I had to. Being a five was so prominent in my lifestyle…..

Truthfully I wanted out. Out of my caste. _I want to be a three. Let me be a three._ Without Lincon.

Slamming the door, I flop down on my bed. Today's been a hard day…. yikes.

Shifting position, I feel a thick letter under my body. I sit up, and brushing the tears away, read it. _My ticket out._ I know that I need to enter immediately.

I grab a cheap pen from my desk, I fill out the form.

 _Name: Jan Esther Abadie_

 _Age: 19_

 _Province: Denbeigh_

 _Caste: 5_

 _Occupation: Photojournalist_

 _Hair Color: Dark brown/black_

 _Eye Color: Brown_

 _Skin Tone:_

I hesitated on this one. _How specific did they want me to go?_ I could say black, ethnically speaking, but maybe they're looking for a specific shade…? I eventually put down _mocha._

 _Height: 5'1"_

 _Weight: 107 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: Homeschooled_

 _Languages Spoken: English, French, Cajun French_

 _Hobbies: Writing, photography, reading, journalism_

I decide that looks ok, and go to change. I wear a nude top with a white and black striped knit cardigan, and kept on my jean shorts and cream flats with black trimming. My hair looks pretty enough, and I add a bit of mascara and chap stick to my look. Pronouncing me ready, I walk out the door. _Finally finished with you, Lincon._

…

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" My mother grips my hand, my father my other. Mom isn't even 40 yet, but her head is almost fully engulfed in grey. The three of us sit in a sterile white office as a panel of doctors whisper and take notes on the other side of the table.

"Statistically speaking, this is an absolute horrible idea!" Dr. Momsen exclaims. He's been with me since I was diagnosed, and is almost always the most cautious of my doctors.

"Riding in an airplane ALONE could put you at risk!" The doctor to his left adds. Her blonde ponytail whooshes around as she throws her hands in the air.

"That's right! The pressure could make your leukemia worse." Says a handsome black haired doctor.

"Or even kill you." Finishes the wellness doctor and Make A Wish Foundation. Her name was Dr. Newlock, I think.

If I was to die ever in the next year or so, I want to have the most interesting life I can. That's why we came to Make A Wish. They were the only people that could help me with my dream of being Selected.

I take a breath. "I'm sure." I tell them.

They all look melancholy in a frightening way. "Cosette, I'm not sure that's possible." Dr. Momsen says mournfully.

"Actually, there is a way." A small voice piped up. A small doctor, clearly a shy woman, with brown hair and glasses engulfing her entire face, stands up, hugging a silver laptop against her chest. "If you're willing to stop whatever you're doing for random checks, and whenever you feel the slightest bit of pain you alert Dr. Momsen, and you don't do everything girls do, and take it really easy, and take full day breaks randomly, and you bring your equipment everywhere you go, and you have an aid with you at all times," she pauses, "we can make sure you're the girl from St. George."

I felt really weird with 6 doctors and my parents standing with me in the line to get my photo taken. They all wore white lab coats and corduroys, while I was there in a light blue cotton sweater, black leggings and white converse. My only jewelry was a small pair of steely silver studs and my hair up in a simply ponytail, in comparison to my moms dangly diamond earrings and fancy bun. We had always been a well off family -my dad spends so much time at work it would be cruel not to be- but these treatments are draining us for everything we have. Another plus side in entering the Selection. Generously compensated. That part was important.

I look around at all of the girls. Just estimating, there have to be at least 250, bare minimum. Momentarily, I feel awful. I'm robbing each and every one of these girls of their chance to be Selected. Most of them want it more than me. Maybe they need the money to sustain their families. Maybe one of them is Prince Carter's soul mate, and they were supposed to meet and I'm ending that possibility.

 _Cos, stop it!_ I mentally chide myself. _This is what you want._

Dr. Momsen hands me one of the forms, and a pen, and I begin to fill out the application.

 _Name: Cosette Emilie Rhimes_

 _Age: 17_

 _Province: St. George_

 _Caste: 3_

 _Occupation: Elementary School Teacher in training/student_

 _Hair Color: Blonde_

 _Eye Color: Blue_

 _Skin Tone: Fair_

 _Height: 5'4"_

 _Weight: 105 lbs_

 _Highest Grade Level Completed: Current sophomore in St. George Province College_

 _Languages Spoken: English, German, some French_

 _Hobbies: Gardening, baking, scrapbooking flowers, journaling_

"Look good, mom?"

"Looks perfect, sweetie." She rubs my shoulder, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Mom? Am I doing the right thing?"

"Yes. You deserve to enjoy life while you have it. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to live." _But this isn't about what I deserve. I wont be living for much longer._

 **Yep, there's another chap! Tell me what you think of everyone!**

 **Riley is Of Darkness and of Light's**

 **Janie is majestictales'**

 **And Cosette is Athenachild101's.**

 **See ya'll next chap! Sorry this one took so long to get out, I literally wasn't writing it. I just started writing this last night. Honestly, I was just lazy. And I have school now, so WISH ME LUCK and just know I'll try to update when I can, but unfortunately I doubt it will be as often. Sorry.**

 **XOXO**

 **-Lily**


	7. Who's Idea Was This?

I felt a sweat coming. I take several deep breaths, but they do nothing to stop the butterflies. This is it. This is it.

I vaguely recall Calla announcing that tonight was the night the Selected were announced, how much of an honor it was that so many girls were entered. She then proceeded to explain the procedure: how once the girl was Selected they would receive several calls and get met with for measurements and instructions. Then, they would be brought to the palace where they would meet me. And then, she warned us that she would be announcing the names now, which shocked me into reality. This was really it.

The national crest of Illéa appeared on a screen. I stared at it intently, until it revealed that my reactions would be shown to all of Illéa. WHOS IDEA WAS THIS?

The first girl's face was broadcasted on the screen.

"Lady Blanca Van Buren of Kent, one." Ah, starting off this competition with a girl who's practically my equal. I knew Lady Blanca from something… Maybe related to an advisor or a Selected or something. Blanca was a very pretty girl regardless, with long blonde hair and ice blue eyes. She oozes a grace and poise that I usually only see in my family.

"Avangeline Astor of Hansport, one." _Are you serious?_ Two ones in a row! But while the other girl seemed very graceful and poised, Lady Avangeline seemed like she was trying to be sexy and found it difficult. Her blue eyes sparkled with friendliness, while her dark mahogany hair layed in her face. It looked more like a head shot than a picture for the Selection.

"Lady Isabelle Acocella, six." Lady Isabelle had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, with pale skin. Ethnic looking, a bit. Italian maybe?

"Lady Kinsley Luca of Zuni, eight." I found it almost comical that we jumped from two ones and two, to an eight. But she seemed awfully clean for her caste. Her light brown hair was pulled back a bit, and her dark brown eyes seemed to reflect the blue on her shirt.

"Lady Waverly Bennett of Paloma, four." Lady Waverly was beautiful, with tan skin dark chestnut hair and brown eyes. Her face completely captured my attention, from her gorgeous smile to her alluring eyes. Easily the prettiest girl of the five so far.

"Lady Arizona Dawson of Clermont, eight." Ah. The second eight so far. Lady Arizona has long blonde hair and hazel eyes. Not incredibly beautiful, but pretty enough.

"Lady Sage Martinez of Tammins, four." Lady Sage has brown hair and brown eyes. She's pretty, but not as pretty as, say, Lady Waverly, or Lady Blanca. Or even Lady Kinsley!

"Lady Chance Huntley of Sonage, seven." Lady Chance is intimidating immediately. Her hair is fire and her eyes are cobalt. She's covered in dark freckles. Lady Chance doesn't smile in her picture, instead opting for a dramatic look. It catches my eye immediately, intriguing me. She'll be one I'm excited to meet…

"Lady Kalissa Lindenberg of Dakota, five." Lady Kalissa seems pretty enough, with chestnut hair and hazel-green eyes. She seemed to have a graceful air about her, peaceful, and poised.

"Lady Bridget Cohen of Columbia, two." Lady Bridget I recognized. She was a contestant on the Amazing Race, last year. She didn't win, but she came relatively close. _She_ I was really excited to meet. Lady Bridget has wavy dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes.

"Lady Xia Macbeth of Sota, four." Lady Xia seemed to be New Asian. Her skin is porcelain, and her eyes have an exotic slant. Her brown hair is silky and down. New Asian, definitely. I wonder if I'll be forced to keep her for her ties…

"Lady Medli Sparks of Allens, three." Lady Medli has light chestnut brown hair and blue eyes; not a big standout.

"Lady Eden O'Malley of Likely, four." Eden's another redhead, with green eyes. But very different from Lady Chance. She seems more delicate, more breakable, in a way. But still pretty enough.

"Lady Auriella Jackson of Atlin, three." Lady Auriella isn't as pretty as the other girls. With light dirty brown hair and brown-green eyes, she doesn't look like one who would stand out in a crowd. Maybe she wasn't wearing much makeup, I don't know. She looks ok, but kind of average in comparison to most of the other girls.

"Lady Genevieve Lemarie of Hundson, two." Lady Genevieve has dark brown hair and grey eyes. She's quite pretty, and her smirk holds a bit of mystery. She intrigues me… to say the least.

"Lady Wren Parker of Honduragua, six." Lady Wren looks especially different than the other girls. She has two different colored eyes: one silver, and one emerald green. Her red hair offsets them both, and I can see her features blaze like nothing I've ever seen. Maybe it's a redhead thing… I get the same feeling from Lady Chelsea. Wait… is her name Chelsea?

"Lady Kaitlyn Owens of Sumner, two." Lady Kaitlyn has VERY long wavy brown hair, kind of an ash brown, which seems to go past her butt. Her skin is pale as porcelain, and her eyes are a very dark shade of blue. Her face seems pale and almost hollow, with clearly defined cheekbones and stuff.

"Lady Wednesday Kellan of Labrador, six." Lady Wednesday has dark brown curly hair and dark brown eyes. By the looks of her, I'd call her a bit Hispanic, by her tan skin tones, but maybe Italian or something. I don't know. She seems to be pretty, but not at the very top of the pack.

"Lady Penelope Foster of Fennley, seven." Lady Penelope was _quite_ pretty. She has light chestnut hair and sterling blue eyes. I'd place her as one of the prettiest, maybe behind Lady Waverly and Lady Blanca, probably just ahead of Lady Avangeline.

"Lady Ainsley Reynolds of Bankston, three." Lady Ainsley was another beauty. She has dark chestnut wavy brown hair and brown eyes, with dark freckles on her nose and cheeks. She also has very dark red lips; I'd rank her second, maybe, next to Lady Waverly.

"Lady Avalon Grey of Whites, three." Lady Avalon seemed to be the most breakable of the Selected yet. With honey blonde hair and green eyes, she was very pretty, but in a very dainty way. Something about her stuck me as odd, and I intended to find out what.

"Lady Catherine Idell of Bonita, seven." Lady Catherine was very pretty, as well as most of these girls. She has dark brown, (or black, I'm not sure which) hair and hazel-brown eyes. She also has dark freckles covering her face.

"Lady Riley White of Angeles, one." Lady Riley. I must have met her before. I'm sure I've seen her around the palace one or twice, or seen her face in something. I knew that Riley's face wasn't one I would soon be forgetting. With hazel eyes and light pink-light blue-light purple hair, she was certainly a standout.

"Lady Arielle Jacques of Midston, two." Lady Arielle seemed pretty enough, with brown hair and brown eyes. Pretty, but not a crazy standout. Whatever.

"Lady Finnly Grant of Carolina, four." Lady Finnly looked very pretty, with dark brown hair and enrapturing dark blue eyes. Her skin looked very tan, and she has a few splattered freckles. She has very dark red lips, like Lady Ainsley did.

"Lady Cosette Rhimes of St. George, three." Cosette seemed pretty enough, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Although her skin looked sickly and she seems frail as a feather. I think there must be a reason for that; I'll have to follow up on her.

"Lady Sonia Safeer Al-Kahn of Panama, four." Lady Sonia was enrapturing, with dark hair and tan skin, but rosy lips and blue eyes. Truly, she was a sight to behold. Very pretty, definitely.

"Lady Jane Abadie of Denbeigh, five." Lady Jane seemed pretty enough. Cute, was more like it. With brown skin and frizzy black curls, her smile was quite nice. There was something about her-her aura. It made me really want to know her. Besides looking pretty, what's more important is a personality. And she just automatically seemed to have a strong one.

"Lady Albany Androvochisven of Calgary, six." Lady Albany seemed quite interesting. And that isn't only because of her last name, either, which is almost definite that Calla's pronouncing it wrong. She seemed small, with dull red hair and hazel eyes, her angular face spotted with freckles.

"Lady Brynlee Cozart of Baffin, eight." Ah. A third eight. Lady Brynlee was the second girl with colorful hair. Her's was a light teal. Her face was angular and hollow, probably from hunger, to be honest. Her eyes are ice blue, and her skin pale.

"Lady Celaena Cork of Ottaro, four." Lady Celaena seemed pretty. With pale skin, light freckles, dull green eyes, and ash blonde hair, she sounded like she would look boring, but really, she was quite pretty.

"Lady Laney Watson of Lakedon, three." Lady Laney was very attractive. She had long chocolate hair in loose curls, and chocolate eyes to match. Her skin was tan, whether it be genetically or from the warm summers in her province. I don't know. Her name itched the back of my mind, but just barely.

"Lady Eponine Newton of Yukon, five." Lady Eponine was sexier than a lot of these other girls, with black-brown hair and sterling blue eyes. Her skin was pale, but not sickly. I wondered what she was like, what her life was like as a five.

"Lady Spencer Davis of Dominica, five." Lady Spencer was gorgeous, up there with Ladies Waverly, Ainsley, and Finnly, although I'm not sure how I'd rank her. Her jet-black hair fell long and in waves, and her blue eyes pierced me. Her skin wasn't pale as ice, but approaching such a tone.

"Lady Clementine Pierri of Belcourt, five." Wow. Three fives in a row. What a coincidence. I was waiting to see who came from my mother's old province, which always comes last in the announcement. She wasn't disappointing, but I was expecting a Waverly type beauty. This was my _mother's_ province. It deserves only the best girl. Maybe her personality was better than Lady Waverly, who knew? It wasn't to say Lady Clementine wasn't pretty, by any stretch. She was a strawberry blonde, with green eyes and slight freckles. She seemed outrageously friendly, which I liked about her.

"And there you have it, ladies and gentleman, the 35 Selected girls of Illéa!" We applaud. She doesn't ask me to speak, mercifully.

I will admit, it doesn't seem as bad as I thought it would. But I expected that the fear would come in nights to come.

Because in two weeks, I would meet them.

 **Well, there's the report! And the Selected list! Woohoo!**

 **Did I surprise you guys? With the Report? I hope I did, that was the plan. Maybe I didn't…. you know what, whatever. There's no difference, really. Kinda short, sorry.**

 **I think I'm only going to do one reaction chapter. Then it's going to be a couple of plane rides. Then makeovers. Etc. You'll be hearing from some of the old girls, plus a mix of new ones. Once I've given a POV to everyone I want to give a POV, we'll split up into groups. Mains, Supporting Featured, Supporting, Minor, Eliminated. You guys will help me with that-see who you like best.**

 **Everyone should submit to Demigod-Gallagher-Selected. Her writing is FABULOUS and you seriously need to read it, then review it, then submit a girl. Seriously.**

 **GUYYYYYSSSSSS! I started SCHOOL today! UGH! Damn it….**

 **Thanks guys! Till next time!**

 **-Lily**


	8. This Was My Dream

"No no no! You're the worst sister ever!" Laney shrieks. I can barely hear her. I'm in too much of a shock. _Thanks Laney, but I didn't want for me to be Selected either. Last time I checked, this was one hundred percent your idea._ I see my foster sister wring her hands through her hair. "Oh my god…. oh my god…. _oh my god!_ You weren't _supposed to get in!_ " I mumble an "I know." She looks at me and glares. "You took that from me!" She accuses, pointing her finger at me. Mom tries to calm her.

"Laney, darling-"

" _No_ mom! I'm the _reason_ you signed up for the Selection!" She yells at me. "Dropout!"

"What?" I ask, my mind barely in focus.

"Laney!" Mom chides.

"You heard me!" She looks like she's about to cry. "This was my dream. Since I was _six years old._ Do you have any idea what this meant to me? How I had planned my outfit _forever ago_ , how I had been taking extra care of myself for _weeks_ , how I was praying every night, on that foolish _shred_ of hope that me- _me_ would make it in." I can hear her voice break, despite her attempts to hide her sadness.

"I'm _so_ sorry Laney! Is there anything I can do to make it better?" I offer, now in distress. _This wasn't what I wanted!_ I just cant lose her.

"Dropout!" She asks me, a little bit of hope picks up in her voice, and her newly bloodshot eyes perk up.

"Laney-" Mom soothes, clearly reluctant, hoping to see what will happen.

"No! Either you drop out… or… or… or we'll disown you!" She screams, angry again. Mom gasps.

" _Elaina Olivia Scott!_ How _dare you_ suggest that!"

"Blame Penny! She _sabotaged me!_ "

"No I didn't!" I defend.

"Oh really?"

" _Yes!"_

"You did too! Dropout!"

"For the last time NO!"

She stares at me. "Then don't consider yourself a part of this family anymore." She turns around and walks up the stairs.

"Laney! You come back here!" Mom chases after her. My foster sister. My best friend. Well, my _old_ best friend, anyways. I almost cried.

It was almost comical, I felt. All 35 of the other girls -I'd guess- were crying too. But tears of joy, I'd bet. And here I was -beginning to cry, which I never do- not in fact rejoicing the reality that I got to compete for the heart of the crown prince, but because I lost my best friend. Who, clearly from her display of emotions, isn't even really worth my time.

 _Who cares if she disowns me? Screw her. I'm a three now anyways, naturally a three. I'm not a seven any longer._

The thought strikes me as odd. I've always been a seven, sure, but I've lived my entire life as a three. It's all I know. Imagine if I didn't get a caste raise…. suppose they actually disowned me? _No._ I'm sure mom wouldn't ever let that happen. Jim-

I look over at him. He's muttering angrily under his breath. I roll my eyes. _Lori, I'll miss you. The rest of you can go to Hell._

…

"How on earth did _you_ get in?" My older sister Kansa chides. I do my best to ignore her, because she seems to just pick at anything he can possibly pick at…. And she's probably just jealous, she entered and she didn't get in! Ha!

"Kansa, was that really necessary?" her twin Josefina asks. Both of us are really just tired of her antics, we've become so used to them they can usually go ignored. Josefina also entered the Selection. It was almost weird that she didn't get in -she's easily the prettiest of the three of us. That wasn't even me being self-depreciating! She is!

"Come on, Josefina. Were you really expecting her to? Didn't you think _you_ would get in? Because I thought that _I_ would get in! No question! Or if it wasn't me, I had doubted anyone in this family! They had the entire province of _Tammins_ to choose from! What would make you think they would pick a Martinez?" I guess there was a bit of truth in what she said. I don't know.

"If mom and dad heard you, you _know_ they would kill you for being so negative!" Josefina retorts.

"Well they cant hear me!"

"Oh shut up." Josefina takes a strand of my dark caramel red-brown hair and braids it absentmindedly. "Sage, I think you're gorgeous." She tells me.

"Thank you."

"Well, that'll get you noticed by the prince! What a _personality_ you have!" Kansa grumbles sarcastically.

" _Kansa_ enough!"

"Stop _telling_ me enough! Aren't you at all _upset?_ And I don't believe you if you say you're not!" I look at her expectantly. She flushes a bit.

"Not in the slightest. Sage deserves it: she's beautiful, kind, and down to earth. I think she would make a fantastic queen."

"Jeez Josefina! Stop being such a goody two-shoes!" Kansa yells.

My favorite sister recoils. "If you would take time not to be a jealous _pig_ you would be happy for her!"

"Are you _kidding me right now? You're_ the ones who's jealous! You've been gushing about the Selection since Prince Carter turned 19! Now you'll _never_ have a chance!" Josefina gets up and starts chasing Kansa, who runs out of the house and away into the vineyard.

 _Oh god… what am I leaving behind?_

…

I didn't get in. I didn't. How is this even possible? I was so sure I would.

"Juno Peters, you _publically_ signed up for the Selection, how do you feel now that you aren't in?" A reporter asks me. I mentally groan. _OF COURSE I had to do this on live television! WHY? HOW ON EARTH did I think that would be a good idea? GOD Juno, you're so stupid!_ I almost feel like crying. Not even because I'm not in, because I completely _humiliated_ myself on national TV!

"Well, I feel a bit disappointed. But maybe it's for the best?" I tell him. He writes down my words.

"Do you think your family will be disappointed in you?"

"Oh, absolutely not! They're very supportive of everything I do, and I have complete faith that they'll try to make this as easy as possible for me."

"Juno, now that you aren't in the Selection, what do you think you'll do next?" _Well… I didn't really think of that…._ I never planned this far. I was _so sure_ I would get in…

"Um…. I'm not sure yet. I plan to keep acting, and maybe even pick up some modeling. I think that this was good for my career, I'll be more focused on it now than ever!" I tell them. _Good plan Juno, nice cover…_ "Anyways, I'm afraid that's all the questions I have time for today." I bid them farewell as I walk into the limo and shut the door, on the way to my parent's house.

But the peace and quiet I had expected would soothe me, only unsettled me. _I really didn't get in._ This is so weird… I've never been _not_ accepted into a contest…. I try to remember who got in from Waverly… some six, I think. Isabella Accosta or something. I wonder what she's like. I wonder if she'll win…. I hope she does. I think that's the only way I could cope with not actually being in the contest myself. At least the girl who _did_ get it would deserve it. I'm ok with not being in this if it'll be for a purpose.

Interrupting my thoughts, I receive a call on my cell phone. I pick up.

"Hello, Juno Peters speaking."

"Juno! Hello, It's Daniel Marrow, from _The Spectrum Effect_."

The call takes me by surprise. _Why would he be calling me…?_

"Hello Daniel! How are you tonight?"

"Wonderful, thank you." He continues with his small talk. "So, I heard you weren't Selected… I'm so sorry."

"Yes, but it's ok. Maybe it's for the best." The other line is quiet for a bit. "Daniel, are you still there."

"Yes, yes I am. So listen," Well, so much for small talk. "I would like to offer you a proposition."

"Yes?"

"Well, how would you like to co-anchor _The Spectrum Effect_ with me?"

I can't breathe, all of a sudden. "Why, I would…. love you. Yes! That sounds great!"

"Really? Oh, that's great."

"Yes! I completely agree!"

"Ok, so we want to introduce you slowly. Maybe we'll have you cover a project, get a feel for it? Then we can broadcast your findings on Wednesday's shows?"

"That sounds good. Why kind of project are you thinking of?" The line goes quiet again. "Daniel?"

"We would like you to cover the Selection."

 **Sorry, this sucked…. I'm updating so early because I didn't have much homework and I wanted to get this out because I didn't like any of it and it was hard to write because it was boring. Call it a filler, maybe. But Penny's thing I've been planning for a while (Although, it didn't turn out quite like I had hoped), I was hoping to introduce another character, and Juno's part is important. None of you noticed how she wasn't among the Selected on the list!**

 **ANOTHER SHOUTOUT to my dear friend Demigod-Gallagher-Selected, who's story is GREAT and is still very much open. COMMENT BELOW IF YOU"RE GOING TO ENTER, AND GIVE ME POSSIBLY THEIR NAME IF YOU HAVE IT BECAUSE I'm CURIOUS AND EXCITED!**

 **Ok, bye guys. Next will be airplanes. Sound like a plan? Is there anyone specific you would like to see a POV from?**

 **KK BYE GUYS WISH ME LUCK AT SCHOOL TOMORROW**

 **-Lily**


	9. That's What I Heard

**Hey guys! Sorry I took so long! School SUCKS and I'm already stressed about everything…. I hate it.**

 **Outfits on my Polyvore.**

I bounced onto the plane. I honestly couldn't be more excited if I tried, I don't think! Except for maybe when the head people at the circus I worked at gave me my first ever solo trapeze gig. But maybe not even then!

As I grinned, walking onto the plane, I saw no other girls. I had heard that I would be riding with 3 others, but I don't know if that's true or not.

A bit disappointed, I –a bit more sobered than before- sit down in one of the airplane's armchairs. I'm immediately taken a bit aback at the plushness of the chair-I almost completely sank into it! I felt myself become a bit more excited as one of the flight attendants, who introduced herself as Silvie Robertson, greeted me with a warm smile and almost as much enthusiasm as me and asked if I wanted a beverage. I responded with, no, I'd rather leave as soon as possible and wait for the girls. She smiled and asked me if I was nervous to meet them, and I admitted I was.

Complying to my wishes, Silvie instructed the pilot to leave whenever we had the chance, which turned out to only be in another couple minutes.

The feeling I got when the plane took off was pure unadulterated exhilaration. It was one of the best things I might have ever done, really. It felt like a rollercoaster, my stomach lurching and my inward screams of excitement. It was absolutely _liberating._

Until I had the company of the other girls, I asked Silvie if she would like to talk. I personally love to talk. She seemed to as well.

"So, Lady Clementine, you seemed in such a hurry!" Silvie begins jokingly.

I shrug. "Yeah, I guess. I wanted to drag out the ceremony for as long as possible –sorry if I kept you waiting!- but now that I'm here, I just cant _wait_ to meet the girls!" She giggles at my enthusiasm.

"Won't you miss your parents? Did you have any siblings?" I try not to let my face fall too much.

"Umm. No, no siblings. My-my parents are long gone." She realizes what I mean and blushes scarlet.

"Lady Clementine, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, that's ok." I assure her. "It was so long ago, I wasn't even born. I live with my dad's parents, Irene and George, or Grans and GG to me. I'll miss them both so much, but for the most part I'm just usually too excited to feel anything else…"

She looks confused. "But if they died before you were born… how on earth are you here today…?" She looks skeptical.

"Oh, of course!" I grin with a "riiiight" face. You know, head tiled back, grin, eyes a bit squinted. "So basically, they had to cut me out of my mom's stomach. It was messy, and I was put in _intense_ care, but here I am, I guess. They call me the 'Miracle Baby'. That was always my name when I played superheroes with Gran and GG." I smile at the memory, and she chuckles.

We talk a bit more, not about anything super important. It's kind of our hobbies and what jobs we hate the most. We talk about her life as a four, and how I cant believe I'm now a three-yaddah yaddah. Finally the Captain announces our decent and I feel giddy. _This is it!_

As we pull to a stop, not a half an hour later. I smooth my strawberry blonde curls in it's high ponytail and have Silvie make sure that the bits of makeup Gran insisted I wear looked ok. She told me that it made my green eyes sparkle.

"Lady Clementine, we've landed in Hundson." The captain announces over the loud speaker.

"OK!" I yell back, but I'm not sure if he can hear me or not. Probably not, thinking about it. My tummy turns and I wring my turquoise painted hands. They match my shoes: little flat turquoise sandals with braided fabrics and embellishments. Gran bought them for me with our new check allowances from the Selection, to glam up my "boring" outfit. Black skinny jeans, and a white spaghetti strap top with little pleats. Cute, but not very exciting, and she chose the sandals to match with my mandatory province flower: an orchid. To go with the turquoise color, I made it a Sonia Blue Orchid, which was much more exciting than a regular one. It was fastened to my ponytail as a sort of clip. I beam as the door opens and I see a girl step in.

Her curly brown hair falls down her shoulders, but I cant see her face. She's turning around and waving at a crowd, probably smiling at all of her new fans. When she turns around her smile fades and she reaches to shake my hand. I take notice of her red stiletto heels with three gold chains, and how different they were from my little quirky sandals. My smile wavers, but I hope she doesn't notice.

Her grey eyes stare me down as she introduced herself.

"Genevieve Lemaire." She seems all professional, and no fun, which isn't my personal preference for a lifestyle. But polite, at the very least.

"Hi! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Clementine Pierre!" I grin broadly and shake her outstretched hand with much enthusiasm. "Or- _Lady_ Clementine now. Wow, that's so weird to say! Don't you-"

"Yeah." She ventures to her seat. A part of me deflates, but I try to ignore it.

The pilot takes off again, and Silvie gives me a sympathetic look, and mouths a _sorry._ I tell her it's fine.

Then we get to Denbeigh. Timidly, a dark skinned girl with a white gerbera flower tucked behind her ear walks onto the plane. I bound up to her, my gin broadening again.

"Hi! I'm Clementine! Or- _Lady_ Clementine I guess. That's going to take some getting used to!"

"Ugh! I _know!_ " The girl agrees. "I'm Janie. Well, Jane, I guess, but Janie."

"Nice to meet you!" We shake hands and I'm immediately relieved that Janie is more friendly than Genevieve. She quickly looked up from her magazine to size up Janie and then went back to it.

Talking with her is a lot easier.

Next, is Carolina. The girl from there seems friendly as she bounds onto the plane.

"Hey! I'm Finnly Grant, call me Finn, please!" We shake her hand and introduce ourselves. In the midst of her animated talking, the lily sitting in her brown hair almost falls out, and Janie fixes it. I'm immediately a bit intimidated by her, because she's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen.

These are the two I talk to for the rest of the plane ride. But I miss Silvie's company. I wonder if every other Selected girl will be like this.

…

Lets not talk about the strange rush that I got when the plane took off. Because that was a really weird feeling and I don't want to feel it ever again. It made my stomach turn, my heart pound, and my head spin, and then my ears started popping and it half made me want to cry out. _Be a lady. Be a lady. Be a lady._

"You ok, Avalon?" Isabelle Acocella asked me. 

"Um. Yeah, fine." My words are strained and my breathing I'm struggling to keep under control. 

"No you're not…. is there anything I can do to help?"

"Ahhhhh… water? Please?" Isabelle calls over the flight attendant, who's name I missed entirely, and asks in such a refined and polite tone that I'm a bit jealous.

"Kelsey? Could we please have a glass of water with some slices of orange and raspberries?" She asks politely.

"Of course miss, I'll be right back with it." Isabelle strokes my arm slightly and tells me I'll be ok. Isabelle seems so much more interesting than I am, her entire persona nice, and full of light. I don't know, I liked that about her. The flight attendant comes back in less than a minute flat with a glass of water and a small plate of orange slices and a handful of raspberries, along with a spoon. Isabelle begins to mash raspberries and spoons it all into the water, mixing it around. She takes the oranges and does her best to get enough juice out of them as possible, before putting the paper thin slices into the drink as well. She eats the rest, and tells me to drink.

I swallowed big chunks of fruit, and could taste the difference in the taste of the water. And it did help my fear.

"Thank you," I tell Isabelle.

"Yup."

I take a breath. "Do you think… what do you think Prince Carter will be like?"

She swallows the fruit in her mouth. "I think he'll be nice, you know? Cordial, you know? I'm not sure, really. But he seems like one of those people, you know? He appears to have no flaws: nice, considerate, polite, intelligent, funny probably, and hot as heck. And I'm sure he's romantic too. But I doubt we'll get any _passion_ from him, and that sucks… Do you kind of get what I'm saying?"

"I guess so."

"I disagree." Injects Albany. She hadn't talked much in this plane ride, and neither had Bridget.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I think that it'll be all passion. Not as romantic, and not as considerate. Still hot as hell, and I'm sure he's nice enough, but only polite because he has to be. And I doubt we'll really be having deep conversations randomly. And I bet his humor's sarcastic." I look at Bridget, expecting her to randomly disagree as well, but she just stares out the window. It doesn't appear that she likes any of us.

"What you think, Bridget?" Isabelle asks her, trying to force her into our conversation.

"I don't know." She doesn't look at us.

"Me neither." I admit.

"Well, I guess we'll see soon enough, right? Tomorrow, that's what I heard." Albany states.

"Wow… That soon, huh?" Isabelle comments.

"Yeah. We arrive today, have makeovers, I think, and meet our maids. We take dinner in our rooms."

"How'd you hear that, Albany?" I ask the redhead.

"I visited the Selected member in King Lucas and Queen Madison's Selection: Elizabeth Messerly. She was like, top five or something. My mom insisted I visit her for advice, she lives about a block away from us."

"Wow, that's awesome!"

"Yeah, I guess so. She seemed so happy, I hope I get to live kind of like she does when this is all over. And her son is so _hot!_ "

We giggle. "Hey! You cant talk like that anymore! We're only here for Prince Carter now!"

"Eh, whatever. Only one of us will win, and some of us will be gone by tomorrow. If there's on thing this contest isn't doing, is changing my opinions on things."

 **You should all know that I hate writing plane ride chapters. I probably wont be writing any more of them, but I was finished with this (finally!) and thought,** _ **why not?**_ **So here it is.**

 **GUYS WEVE BROKEN 100 REVIEWS! We currently have 102! REVIEW GUYS AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT!**

 **Clementine is the work of Thedaffodilqueen**

 **I've already told y'all (I'm not country, I just felt like saying that) who made Avalon**

 **Albany and Bridget are Thirteenth17**

 **And Isabelle is ARandomFangirler**

 **Next chapter will be MAKEOVERS because writing plane rides SUCKKKKKKK I cant stand them.**

 **Tell me what you thought in the reviews!**

 **-Lily**


	10. If They Would Be Right

**HOW WAS YOUR LABOR DAY**

 **Outfits on my Polyvore!**

"Wait, why are you wearing that?" _We were supposed to wear a white top and black skinny jeans…. I'm sure of it! It got sent to us and everything!_ But nevertheless, Kaitlyn Owens stands in front of me in the inverted colors: white jeans and a black top.

Kaitlyn gives me a look. "Um, because I want to?" She pulls a fashion magazine from the pile and flips through it. Avangeline had already done so, and Chance did it after, just not knowing what to do. I pick up one as well, just for the heck of it.

 _The 10 Girls Most Likely To Make It To The Elite_

 _By India King_

 _It's that time of year everybody, the Selection has arrived! The 35 beautiful girls will soon be coming to stay with the wonderful extended royal family of Illéa! They'll make friends among themselves and the royals, but enemies as well. And some of them will fall in love. But lets hope it's with only Prince Carter *insert wink*. (We're looking at you Princess Anna) But before they even meet him, why don't we place some bets? Here are our picks for the 10 girls WE think will make it to the Elite!_

 _10)_ _ **Lady Kaitlyn Owens**_ _Not only is Lady Kaitlyn –or Kaiti how she's used to being called, according to her YouTube channel- very beautiful, but from a very respected family of Illéa. She's the daughter of Governor of Sumner, Peter Owens, and the ever-gorgeous socialite Roseanne Owens. Her household is one held in high respect, and we expect Lady Kaiti to ooze the same poise and sociality that her parents do. On top of that, her weekly fashion vlogs showcase only the highest fashion, and her social media pages are chocked full of great outfits! Her beauty looks we absolutely swear by! We'll definitely have to keep an eye on Lady Kaiti, and we feel safe to guess a fashion line could be soon in her future! The millions on her fan base are sure pulling for her!_

I was surprised to find myself as the next person. Me! Some nobody 4, a pastry chef! And they thought I would make it to the Elite. I was all too eager to read what they said about me.

 _9)_ _ **Lady Xia Macbeth**_ _Lady Xia's cupcakes aren't the only sweet thing about her! We interviewed customers at her family's bakery and they've all agreed upon one thing: Lady Xia is always all smiles! And she makes some of the best deserts in Sota, but never mind that. Her constant optimism and brightness every morning as been so encouraging for customers everywhere, and her kindness has had a wonderful impact on everyone's lives! Her peaceful nature is very soothing, and she's known to strike up a conversation with anybody and everybody! Plus, her ties to New Asia can't hurt! We_ did _make peace with them a generation back, but there are rumors of spats with the Indian Emirates! Maybe Lady Xia can use her calming nature (and connections) to smooth this all out?_

I blush. I didn't know people said all of these things about me! And then I flush, when it gets to rumors of fights. _Fights? Since when have there been fights?_ I can't wait to read on, hoping to distract myself, and eager to learn a bit about the other girls.

 _8)_ _ **Lady Kalissa Lindenberg**_ _Lady Kalissa is the epitome of poise and grace, being the prima ballerina she is. Graceful and refined, Lady Kalissa has won her past four consecutive dancing seasons, what an accomplishment! We spoke with Lady Kalissa's dance coach, Coach Abigail Hawthorne of the prestigious_ Abigail Hawthorne Institution of Dance _, in Dakota. "Kal's an inspiration to everyone." says Hawthorne. "She's always pumped and excited to dance her heart out. Her enthusiasm is always known to pump up the other dancers. But when she's on that stage, she just_ oozes _grace!"_

 _7)_ _ **Lady Chance Huntley**_ _Wow. How much more Queen America can you get? Lady Chance not only has her features: fiery red hair, cobalt eyes, and dark freckles, but her caste too! True, she isn't a five, but a seven! The bar girl from Sonage must know about survival from the world around her, and we think that she could be a great leader. There are many reports of her being flanked everywhere she goes, even before the Selection! We aren't sure what about the redheaded beauty is so alluring, but we're determined to find out! In her Selected photo, Lady Chance struck a dramatic pose; capturing the eye of everyone and leaving us begging for more! She stands out in a crowd, and we think that Prince Carter will agree!_

 _6)_ _ **Lady Ainsley Reynolds**_ _This novelist is a definite contender in this contest! Easily one of the most beautiful girls in the Selection, she's known to be very humble. Her writing shows her flawless technique, creativity and perfectionism. Lady Ainsley's a girl who will accept nothing but perfection, and that's a trait that we very much need in a future queen! From her book tours around the country, she's known to be very personable and kind. She has fans all around the country, and we know that them and all of us are rooting for her! Her newest novel_ The Sound of Silence _is on our top list of books! See page 62 for a chance to win a signed copy!_

 _5)_ _ **Lady Laney Watson**_ _This beauty from Lakedon has been planning her own woman's revolution, as it seems! She ahs encouraged the women of her province to stop-stop everything. They've walked out on their homes, work, everything! And very quickly, the entire province is beginning to crash. When interviewed on the Nightly News earlier this month, she reported "My goal is equal pay for women. In 99.6% of all occupations, women still only make 83 cents for every man's dollar! This is no longer 2015! It's time to wake up and realize: we are a vital part of society and deserve to be treated as equals!" Lady Laney's drive and ambition is one that we truly admire, and we hope that girls everywhere take from her example and fight for what you believe in!_

 _4)_ _ **Lady Avangeline Astor**_ _This gorgeous advisor-in-training would be a big asset to the royal family! Coming from a great family, one of the three ones of this contest has many national and global connections! She seems alluring and sexy in every interview and picture taken from her, with a calm nature. This could certainly help, should there be a war soon! The one recently graduated from the Academy of Greece, and we wonder if she'll have anything to say about the ancient city! We would love to see her wear some sexy Grecian inspired looks! Do I smell a trend coming? Illéa would be in great hands with Lady Avangeline holding the reins!_

 _3)_ _ **Lady Ryseline White**_ _Lady Ryseline –commonly known as Riley- holds many cards, being the daughter of our Advisor of State, Gareth White. Reportedly, she's on her gap year from diplomacy with her brother Jeremie and Aunt Astrid, author of many travel and culture books. Lady Ryseline seems to be a bit of a rebel-dying her once light brown hair a cotton candy-periwinkle Ombre. We're dreading the possibility of her being forced to die it back in the makeovers, and we're glad she's true to who she is. That's a trait that's very admirable (as long as it doesn't ruin the country!), and we hope that she never loses it!_

 _2)_ _ **Lady Waverly Bennett**_ _Though it's all up for debate, we say that Lady Waverly Bennett is the_ most beautiful girl _in this entire contest! The brunette is a four and a Maître D. She works at her family's restaurant in West Paloma, former California Peninsula. Reportedly, Lady Waverly loves to surf and would love to do so professionally! We asked her (hot!) older brother Wesley, and he claimed to have taught her everything she knows! Make sure to sign up for surfing lessons with_ that _beach babe, he'll teach you a thing or too! We're all excited for Lady Waverly's makeover, see if she'll change anything about her overall appearance. You don't need to, Lady Waverly! We think you're stunning exactly how you are!_

 _1)_ _ **Lady Blanca Van Buren**_ _We highly doubt that her sister, Duchess Diana Marie Claire Van Buren Ravenna of Italy, will be the only Van Buren marrying a royal! Lady Blanca is a stunner, and stands out in her family as the only blonde (are you into blondes, Prince Carter?). Lady Blanca is an ancestor of the winner of the very first Selection: Grace Abbot. Her many-times-great grandmother, Charlotte Diana Marcella Abbot Revelman, was the sister of former Queen Grace, and they've done well to maintain their caste over the years! With this beauty's connections, and clear poise, we think she's a shoe-in for this contest!_

 _Agree? Disagree? What do you think of our list? Tell us your favorite using the form on page 43!_

I sat down, a bit shocked. I looked around. Everyone of the girls on this plane ride with me-Kaiti, Avangeline, and Chance, had a feature here. And I did too? How was this possible?

At the same time, I guess this was educational. I didn't know that Kaiti was a YouTuber, or that Avangeline went to school in Greece. I wondered how many sides of these girls I would see, what I would learn about each of them. I wondered if they would be right.

 **Whelp, that's done. I wrote out one more plane ride chap because I decided I wanted to put the magazine bit in. India was submitted to me by N.M.E Agent.**

 **Xia was written by x-ultalicious**

 **Avangeline is the work of Princess Swim**

 **Kaiti you should already know**

 **And Chance you should also know.**

 **THE END!**

 **Now will be makeovers. How many do you want? And how many per chapter do you think I should do?**

 **Tell me what you think guys!**

 **BYE**

 **-Lily**


	11. Preparation of Ointments and Bobby Pins

**You'll notice my new cover. I made it myself. And I like it. But the question is-DO YOU! Tell me what you think!**

 **ALSO, if you want a cover for your SYOC story, I'd be happy to make one! Just PM me!**

 **Outfits on my Polyvore**

 **But I don't think I'm going to say that anymore, just look if you're interested.**

"I don't know what we're going to do with that prosthetic hand, Lady Medli, Darling." My personal stylist, a tall Asian man, says to me. I had just come back from getting my "Before" picture taken. Cordelia Thornley, a black haired woman with dark grey eyes and a white dress with small cutouts embellishing it, had instructed me to take one with no questions asked. Apparently it would be featured in some tabloid, they were doing a big feature on the makeovers. I needed a starting point for reference. My eyes still danced with white spots from the flash of the photographer's camera. "Any ideas, ladies?" he turns around to the three girls behind them, all wearing matching navy dresses and blazers. I realized that they were my maids pretty quickly.

"There isn't much we can do about the scars, sir. Or the hand. I recommend we just draw attention away from it." The petite redhead pipes.

"What's your name, darling?"

"Scarlet, Scarlet Smoke."

"Well, Scarlet Smoke, I say we call that Plan B. Anyone else?" The blonde and the brunette remain quiet. "Fine, now its plan A. Scarlet Smoke, can I assume you're the main seamstress?"

"That'd be me, sir." the brunette steps forward.

"And you are?"

"Malon Ranch, sir."

"Ok, Malon. Pull a long sleeved dress for Lady Medli, if you'd please. Chiffon if you can. Pastel." He snaps his fingers and Malon runs away. "Who's her makeup artist?" Scarlet gingerly raises her hand. "We're going to need concealer, and scar ointment. We want as many of those gone as possible." He gestures to my arms, and Scarlet runs off. "I take it you're the hairstylist?" The blonde nods her head yes. "And you are-"

"Zelda Forester."

"That's nice. Zelda, go plug in a curling iron. And I want bobby pins. Go!" Zelda rushes away, leaving only the bossy man and me. His skinny pointed face breaks into a smile, showing me a row of bright white teeth. "Hello, Lady Medli Darling. I suppose I should introduce myself." He sticks out his hand, and I shake it hesitantly. "I'm Usher. Usher Tipaniago. Call me sir if you feel like it, but Usher is also acceptable."

"Ok, thanks." I offer a small smile. "Usher." I add.

My maids come back pretty much at the same time, with Scarlet carrying a pale green dress. I noticed that it was mostly lace, with a chiffon looking overlay.

"I'm _so_ sorry sir!" Malon apologizes. "This was all we had!"

He studies the dress. "That'll be ok, have her try it on."

The tall brunette and I walk over to the changing rooms, where I insist that I can change myself, and I strip my custom black pants and white top off. One I'm decent, Malon insists on coming in to adjust it. She makes sure that the sleeves are pulled down to the wrist, and that none of the fabric is caught. Barefoot, she lets me out of the dressing rooms. Zelda and Scarlet look up, and try not to light up too much. They hide giddy smiles and excited eyes with the preparation of ointments and bobby pins.

Usher grins, satisfied. "That's honestly perfect for you, Lady Medli, darling." I smile at the compliment. He turns his attention to Malon. "You're Mallon?"

"Yes sir." She squeaks. He squints his eyes to look at her, his head tilted back.

"Good job Malon." She lets out a breath. "I expect makeup, hair, and accessories done to perfection, ladies! I'm trusting you!" He whistles and they go back to their work. "You look beautiful, honey. It was so nice to meet you Lady Medli." He bows, and I smile at him, and then he goes-waving over his shoulder.

My maids wheel me into hair and makeup, where they curl my chestnut hair and then decide on making a loose fishtail on the side of my head and leaving the curls pinned up on top. Very fancy, very elegant. I can't help but feel like a princess. Moving on to makeup, they ask me what I'm comfortable with. I appreciate that about them, they seem to care about me genuinely.

"Ummm… less noticeable? Would that be ok? Like, nudes and stuff?" Scarlet giggles.

"Of course!" They do exactly as asked, defining my blue eyes with little bits of eyeliner and mascara, and light nude eye shadow that you could barely notice, and a peach lip color. My nails are painted a shade of green to match my dress. Malon and Zelda go to consult about accessories during this time. They come back with gold ankle strap heels and intricately laced gold teardrop earrings. I walk back and forth to make sure the heels fit right. Plus, I hadn't worn pumps since back in High School Graduation. About a year ago, granted, but still, a year with no heels. I stumbled a few times before I rendered myself capable of walking again.

"You look absolutely perfect, Miss!" Zelda breathes. Scarlet jumps up and down and claps her hands gleefully, her red curls whooshing around. I notice a navy blue bow-probably the only color they would let her wear at the palace, to match her uniform- fall out of her hair, and I pick it up gingerly. I can't catch her attention, so I keep it in my hand.

I twirl around in front of the mirror in awe. My maids made me look flawless: with the grace and charm of a princess, and the conservativeness I usually found in my pants and long sleeved shorts in Allens. Even in the summer. My scars are a bit too embarrassing to be out in public so freely. But Scarlet helped me get rid of those too, slightly at least!

"We'll apply the ointment to you every night until your scars are almost gone, sound ok?" Scarlet tells me. I nod. Although, something about her tone bothers me. I'm ashamed of my scars too, I just hate it when she says it… but I just don't know why.

"All that's now is a Signature Scent, I guess." Malon looks to Zelda and Scarlet and they nod their heads in agreement.

"Wait, what's that?"

"Oh right! Brands pay money to put one of their perfume bottles as an option for a Selected girl to choose from. There's a good thousand bottles total submitted, and they get to pick and chose how many girls it gets sent to be an option for. There are about 50 for each, I think. Every Selected girl picks one and endorses it as a signature scent, or their signature perfume." Zelda explains.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So now you just have to pick one!" Scarlet clumsily carries a type of jewelry or makeup box and opens the hatch, after settling it down on the vanity. I see rows and rows of little bottles, in different colors and sizes, but some form of similarity. I pick up a few and examine them, the LED lights used to illuminate the room shining through some of them reflecting blue, or magenta, or orange light. They're beautiful. All of them.

I take my time, sniffing each. I smell mixes of jasmine, florals, citrus, almond, and vanilla, wafting from their bottles in a way that makes me want to melt. After much hesitation, I eventually decide on Madagascar Vanilla: Fresh citrus accents which open to reveal a classic floral accord at the heart of this exotic vanilla scent. Dramatic woody notes are carefully blended with hints of musk and amber for a sensual effect, characterizing the scent and creates in a warm and lingering sweetness. I can't get enough of it; I could smell it all day!

"Great choice, Miss!" Malon says. I smile at her, happy that she agrees.

"I guess you just have to take your after photo now, I'd go to station 3, it's open. We'll see you later this evening, Miss." The three girls curtsey, and before I can tell them not to anymore, they walk away, leaving me with only one thing to do. I walk cautiously to station three to get blinded again and branded as a superficial version of perfection.

…

"Would it be ok if I like, cut my hair? A lot? Like, three inches or so?" I cautiously play with a strand of my thick dark brown hair. The blonde woman with pale-as-snow skin and ice eyes looks back at the other three behind her and they burst out laughing.

"Of course! That's not too much!" She says, sinking into a low curtsey. "We'll see to it that your hair is cut three inches or so, Lady Wednesday. I'm Mika, your personal stylist." I wave slowly, uncomfortable at how she curtsies at me, and how the other three follow suit: two blondes –one with a bob and the other a braid- and a redhead. Not many people found it to be a priority when I was six and a pet sitter and a house sitter for wealthy twos, to curtsey to me. Usually I was forced to curtsey to them. If I was wearing a dress or a skirt, that is.

I try to work up the courage to tell them not to anymore, but it kind of flails and I don't wind up speaking to them much at all.

"Ok. Do you have any specific changes you would like to make? Besides trimming your hair?"

I think for a second. "Hey! What if I got colored contacts?" I ask jokingly. My maids giggle behind dainty hands, their bright eyes lighting up. "I've always considered brown to be boring." I shrug my shoulders.

"How does purple sound?" suggests the blonde with the braid.

"No way! Red!" says the redhead.

"What about rainbow?" asks the blonde with the bob.

I look at the three of them, my face fully serious. "If I don't get rainbow contacts, I'm leaving." I wait until they start doubling over in laughter before I smile and start snickering with them. Even Mika laughs a bit. We attract the attention of several girls and maids, who give us weird looks, which just makes us laugh even harder. I notice one girl next to my station, with chestnut curls and dark freckles (one of the prettiest I've seen out of all of us) smile at us, struggling not to laugh. I smile back at her. _Maybe these girls won't be as horrible as I thought they would be._

When she finishes with her laughter, my personal stylist puts an end to that immediately. However unfortunately. How funny would that be for me to walk up to the crown Prince of Illéa with rainbow eyes? Mika looks me up and down, her finger stroking her chin. I try to straiten my body, and let go of my hair. Eventually, Mika reaches a conclusion.

"Don't you girls ever dare put her in yellow."

"Yes Ma'am," they all chorus, somewhat in unison.

"So Lady Wednesday," Mika begins, focusing her attention fully to me.

"Could you call me Wendy? Or, I mean, even _Lady_ Wendy. I don't really go by Wednesday."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I just hate it."

"Well I think it's beautiful. Consider going by it." Mika's accent turns her "its" to "etches", and it makes me laugh. Russian accents are the coolest.

"Ok." I don't know what else to say, so I figure complying is the best way to go.

Mika turns back to the three girls. "So, anyways, no yellows of any kind. Reds would be ok…. blue would be ok, probably navy if you can, black, grey, even white."

"Yes Ma'am." the redhead says.

"I trust you, do good." Mika gives an exaggerated salute and smiles at me, before walking away.

"So, do you have any specific colors you like for your dress, Lady Wednesday?" The girl with the blonde bob asks.

"Ummmm could you please call me Wendy? _Lady_ Wendy, whatever?" The three girls look at each other and snicker. I have no idea what this means, but if I had to guess, I would doubt that they're going to call me Wendy. So I just answer their question, with a roll of my eyes and a smirk. "And no, I don't have any favorite dress colors."

"Ok. Serephina, go see what you can find." The girl with the bob says to the redhead. She bounces off, her curls flying everywhere as she snakes her way through crowds of maids, Selected girls, personal stylists, and clothing racks.

When "Serephina" comes back, she holds up a pale black (yes, there is such a thing) spaghetti strap skater dress with little diamond-star prints on them.

"Cute!" The bob-girl says.

"Thanks, April!" Quips Serephina.

"Madeline, do you think maybe curls with this outfit?"

The blonde braid girl-Madeline, I guess, smiles. "That would be perfect! And matte nails!"

I'll get right on it!" April springs to action, grabbing eye shadow and lip-gloss and nail polish and some gold arrow embellishment thingies. Madeline untwists the chord of the curling iron and plugs it in. Serephina ushers me to the dressing room to get on my dress. When I come out, I smooth it so it's not bunched up in any place.

Serephina and Madeline high five as I walk out. I wink at them, and they give each other a look.

April directs me to a chair to wash down my hair before she can cut it.

"You're hair is so _thick!_ Wow." She comments.

"I think it's a Hispanic thing."

"Are you Hispanic?"

"3/4."

"Ah." We don't talk any more, as she cuts my hair the three inches I want off. Then, she blow-dries and straitens it, before curling it. I like that. How careful she is. How precise.

Next, Madeline directs me to the makeup chair in front of the vanity. She applies pale pink-tan eye shadow, eyeliner (but not much, mascara, and a sort of dusty pink lip-gloss. Then she paints my nails: a black matte color and puts her little golden triangle embellishments on my ring fingers, and a square on my middle fingers. I love her attention to detail! The time and effort put into making me look my best. And I know my maids and I are going to get along just fine.

Serephina hands me a pair of dusty daisy earrings and white heels. Unbelievably hard to walk in, believe me. It takes several tries to get used to them. But at least, when I get used to them, I find that I like them a lot. Just as I would flats or sneakers.

They all share a look of happiness. _We did it, guys._ Their eyes seem to say.

"Could you get the signature scents box?" I look at Madeline weirdly as April runs off to get the box. She finished explaining just as April returns, and I pick out one.

A million scents consume me. I pick out only a couple, smelling only the ones I find with the prettiest names or bottles.

I eventually decide on a clear and refreshing scent called "Winter Garden". The fresh clean smell of winter air while walking down a snow-covered path, or that's what it seems to be like to me anyways. This fragrance begins with top notes of fresh lime and mint; middle notes of Douglas fir, vanilla and lavender; with full-body base notes of eucalyptus and pine. Heavenly, if you ask me. Especially since I love winter, and mint and vanilla are my two favorite scents. So sue me, but it smelled really good.

"Ok, so now we have to send you off to get your after picture taken, sound good?" I nod. "We'll see you later today, alright Lady Wednesday?"

" _Wendy!"_ I call back at them, as they giggle and walk away, gossiping behind their hands.

So I walk over to the crowd of girls silently, daring not to make a sudden movement, already more tense

 **There you guys go. Sorry it took so long!**

 **Medli was made by orangerosy32 and Wednesday was made by UltimateMaxmericaShipper**

 **Tell me what you guys think!**

 **-Lily**


	12. I Feel Pretty

"Please don't make me change my hair!" I plead to my stylist. The older woman smiles at me, her eyes even more wrinkled. She brushes a strand of grey hair behind her ear and gives me a toothy grin.

"Of course, Lady Riley. It'll certainly make you stand out." She winks at me and I smile back. One of the three girls behind her- a girl with auburn hair- giggles and rolls her eyes. My personal stylist sends her a glare over her shoulder at the girl and she shuts up. Then she whispers to one of the two brunettes next to her and they laugh quietly. I can't help but wonder what they're talking about.

My personal stylist, who introduced herself as Emmaline Lysp, surveys me, her dark lips pressed into a hard line.

"You're awfully pale, aren't you lady Riley?" Emmaline half jokes, her arms crossed over her chest. Both of my hands remain behind my back, in an at ease position. I don't know how I developed this habit, seeing as I've never been in the military, but it's a hard one to break.

"Sure." I agree. For the two weeks I've spent in the Indian Emirates, clearly my tan has decided not to pick up. And here I thought I got a _little_ color…

"Would you like a spray tan?" She asks me. I try not to wrinkle my nose. _Spray tans, ew…_

"No thank you."

"Ok then." She turns to the three girls behind her, all who straiten their positions. Emmaline is a four, that's the only possible caste she could be in. The three girls must be sixes, maids probably. But they're dressed differently than the last time I was here: either there's been a change in outfit, or there's another uniform to distinguish them as Selected's maids as supposed to regular. Probably the latter. "We're going to need an outfit of a light color. White, cream, pale blues, pinks, greens, purples: they'll all work. I don't want Lady Riley in a dark color. If we can, avoid green or pink because of her hair. White is preferable, but if we can spruce it up that would be great." Emmaline snaps her fingers and the three girls disperse.

Emmaline takes this time to survey me and tell me everything that I need to change about myself.

"We're going to have to get rid of most of those earrings." She reports, holding a bony hand to my left ear studded with three piercings. _Lets hope she doesn't find out about my belly button. Or tongue…._ "I think I want to trim your hair. A fresh start, a new look. We're going to need _something_ different for your after-picture!" I hate smiling for pictures. My left side of my mouth tilts up more than my right, making my smile lopsided and off looking. Living in a world where the spot light's constantly on you, this can be a MAJOR drawback. I wonder if there's any way they can fix that….

The oldest looking brunette rushes in front of Emmaline and I, a curling iron in hand and navy heels clacking against the polished uncarpeted marble in the Makeover Room. The girl with auburn hair comes right after her, her arms full of cosmetics. And then the final brunette, who walks right up to Emmaline with a dress.

"How's this?" She asks my stylist. The dress is white with blue, orange, purple and pink flowers weaving elegantly from the left chest part down to the skirt. Not overdone, just beautiful and whimsical, the little pops of color made it fun. It's sweetheart neckline and poofs out from the amount of fabric. I suck in a breath, and all attention of my crew goes to me.

"It's gorgeous." The brunette smiles at me, and I see her previously nervous pale blue-green eyes light up as a thick smile slides across her face.

Emmaline smiles at me and nods. "Listen to the Lady. We'll go with that one." The girl smiles even wider, and I notice her look to the girl with auburn hair, who smiles at her supportively in the midst of sorting through makeup. "Luna, please go with Miss Riley to get changed."

Luna and I walk to the dressing room so I can get changed. I strip, pretty much unfazed. She gasps. "Miss! Tattoos?" I blush a bit and shrug sheepishly at the small tattoos on my wrist and under-bra line. The one behind my ear I know she can't see. She sighs. "I think it will be ok, just try not to tell Emmaline. She'll kill you!" I smile at the girl's mock seriousness. "I'm Luna, by the way."

I smile. "Riley." She giggles.

When I'm finished getting dressed, Luna scurries off and Emmaline lights up. "Oh darling! It's so perfect! You look stunning!" She embraces me in an awkward hug, which I was not expecting. "Oh- where is Luna with those damn accessories?" She looks around, her smiley demeanor gone in a poof. The brunette comes back about a minute later. "It took you long enough!" My stylist chides. Luna looks guilty, and I feel horrible for her.

"I'm so sorry miss!"

"No excuses; just give Miss Riley," She turns back to me and smiles, "her accessories." Luna lays out azure flats, diamond studs in the shape of flowers, and thin silver stackable rings. Very understated, which I like with such a whimsical dress. It takes me no more than a minute to get into them, and then I get directed to a hairstyling chair, where my hair is trimmed to a couple inches past my shoulder, just as Emmaline wanted. The hairstylist's name is Nina, the older brunette. She's the oldest out of my maids, and seems very soothing and caring and stuff. I feel a strong maternal instinct coming from her and wonder if she has any kids. She takes my loose curls and brings them back into a low bun, showcasing all of them in an easier-to-manage style. They let me keep my hair color and I'm pleased to find that the dress kind of matches. That's certainly rare.

I then get directed to a white chair in front of large vanity with Hollywood bulb lights around the square shaped mirror. The girl with auburn hair, who introduces herself as Annamarie, applies purple-ish eye shadow, candy pink lip-gloss, and white nails with intricate little purple flower designs. I take a look at myself in the mirror and smile. It wasn't like I changed much, but I feel pretty.

I was somewhat familiar with the concept of Signature Scents. Or at least, I was able to guess correctly. After a quick search, I choose a clear scent called _Gardenia Kiss._ It smelled of tropical gardenia, one of my favorite scents that I first discovered a couple of months ago with Astrid and Jeremie in the African Union, near Kenya City. I detected orchid and exotic flowers, with white freesia and something clean and dewey. It smelled fresh, clean, and sweet, and I genuinely loved it.

"I'll take this one." I hold up the rectangular shaped clear bottle.

"Sounds perfect, Miss." Annamarie says, spritzing a bit on my neck.

Emmaline holds my shoulders. "It's been an honor, Lady Riley. Now all that's left is to take your after picture." She points at the camera where Lady Chance was striking a dramatic pose. The camera seemed to be eating it up. She oozed sex appeal, her body skinny and gorgeous, and her face absolutely captivating. She wore a shapely spaghetti strapped dress with a black skirt and a sequin bodice. Her hair fell in long loose curls around her face and back. She pulled off tall black heels and long silver gemstone drop earrings. I knew that she was only a seven, but she had the poise of a supermodel and I immediately felt jealous. _It's not fair!_ I internally whined. And she didn't even have to smile! They didn't force her to at all! She bit her bold red lip, or kept her mouth slightly ajar, but we barely had to glimpse her teeth. Her smile could be even worse than mine, who knows? I realize that I can't do that, with an outfit as whimsical as mine, and I groan internally. I don't think I can really pull off sexy anyway…. not the way Chance can.

I begrudgingly walk over to the station where she was and tried to ignore my jealously. As she finished and came off the platform, I did a double take. She was a _shrimp!_ A couple inches shorter than me, and she was wearing four inch heels! She couldn't be taller than five foot two! _You're not short, Chance; you're vertically challenged._ Well, at least I have height. So that's something.

I took a deep breath as I walked up the stairs to the black platform. _Here goes nothing._

 **GUYS IT'S MY BIRTHDAY IN FIVE DAYS OMG OMG OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!**

 **Hey, how old do you guys think I am currently? Like, by the way I write, if you were to take a guess, how old? Leave answers in the comments, I'm genuinely curious!**

 **I've decided on my main-supporting featured-supporting-minor list, but I'm NOT SHOWING YOU GUYS UNTIL THE FIRST ELIMINATION! There are nine main characters, four antagonists, four supporting featured, twelve supporting, and six minor. I'll give you a bit of a breakdown:**

 **Main- Will have POVs. Not necessarily an Elite, just saying! These are all characters I found easy to write and very original. I have a pretty good mix in there, I think.**

 **Supporting Featured- They wont get POVs, but are pretty much just as important/featured as much if not more than the mains to make up for not getting POVs. Still a big deal, so don't worry if your character is on this part of the list! It's actually a big compliment, I love your character a lot, but they're hard to write!**

 **Supporting- Will not get POVs, and not as many mentions as the supporting featured. WILL BE FEATURED THOUGH! This is my biggest list. Once the list of minor characters get eliminated, more characters will be shafted down to minor. Supporting will get smaller and smaller, until I don't want any minors anymore. This part of the list will be constantly changing.**

 **Minor Not featured too much, but occasionally. No POVs. There's absolutely nothing wrong with your character, but probably I just didn't feel like I could write them well and they're not necessary to the line of plot. But remember, if they're not eliminated, that's certainly a good thing! I love all of the characters I've gotten, but SOME of them have to be minors!**

 **Antagonists- Yeah, this one's kind of weird. I'm splitting them up just like I'm doing to the other characters, almost like a sub group. I believe I have one main antagonist, two supporting featured, and a supporting. They do not count in the list of Main/Supporting-Featured/Supporting. But the features will be the same based on the category.**

 **Eliminated- Well, this is pretty self-explanatory. No POVs, no features. They got eliminated.**

 **There is always a chance for your character to get bumped up, remember that! Always keep reviewing! The list I have is NOT FINAL!**

 **Love you guys! REVIEW PLEASE!**

 **-Lily**


	13. Glamor is a Religion

"We have two options, Lady Celaena," the man in front of me begins. I take in his features: tall, dark skinned, black closely cut hair, the standard outfit of personal stylists here -black blazer, white button down, black slacks, gold tie and cufflinks- "One, we make you standout. Pop. Change you. Crazy style. Green eyeliner. Spray tan. Maybe make a bob out of all of that ash blonde hair." He picks up a strand of my thin wavy hair and examines it, before putting it back down again. "Or, we can just enhance your features. Nothing too drastic: maybe trim your hair, or clean your face. Fresh, but clean. No pop out, but certainly not bad. Which do you want to go with?"

"Enhance, please." He smiles at me warmly.

"Sounds good." He peeks over his shoulder and nods the three girls behind him forward. Two of them, one with red hair and the other with black hair, both with brown eyes, step forward confidently and almost in sync. But the last girl, with chestnut hair and startling blue eyes, is more tentative. I wonder why, is it because she's shy or she's awestruck? Both reactions seemed common enough these past few weeks. "I'm Clyde." He bows. "These are:" He gestures to the three girls.

"I'm Polly." The girl with the black hair says. She appears to be New Asian, not that it matters.

"I'm Jessamine." The redhead announces with her chin up in the air. She looks at me with distain and I cant help but wonder if I had done something in the 10 minutes of me being here to make her angry.

The air goes dead and all eyes go to the last girl, which makes her suck in a breath sharply. Her eyes dart around nervously. "Umm I'm Kaylie."

I smile at them. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure you already know who I am; but-" I chuckle.

"Well," Clyde claps his hands; "lets get on it, then!" He puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me away. "What type of style are you going for?" He asks me.

"Ummmm… I don't know." I confess. "Modest, I guess. I don't want the Prince to see me as some slut." One girl, a brunette with really tan skin and brown eyes, gasps. I notice her in a white skater dress with purple roses on it and purple heels. With her tall shoes, she's just as tall as me. I mean, 5'9", that's tall. It brought up the point that I certainly wouldn't be wearing heels. Her hair was twisted and pulled to a side where it was curled and slung over her shoulder. I was jealous of her hair. A beautiful dark chestnut color, something to really look at in comparison to my ash blonde locks. Purple teardrop amethyst earrings hung out from curtains of hair and gave her a classy glamor. She crossed her arms across her chest and cocked a hip; her lavender painted nails drumming against her arm. Clearly she was right in the middle of the makeup portion of her makeover, because her skin was perfectly even with no blemishes (the way you look when you have foundation but no blush or bronzer on) and a line of rose blush was streaked across her cheek. She walks up to me and I feel like shrinking.

"I don't think it's fair for you to classify someone as a 'slut' by the way they dress." She chides me.

One maid with black hair and blue eyes walks towards the girl. "Lady Laney, we need to-"

"One second, Lissa." She silences the girl. She turns her attention back to me. "Girls have a right to dress however they want." I open my mouth to interject before she cuts me off. "Furthermore, there is a _virginity_ law, to suggest that someone's a slut is a big deal! Don't use that word so lightly! It's rude and I think we can be a bit more compassionate to people's feelings, don't you? There's no reason to judge someone here."

I look at her, awestruck. "Ok." She smiles at me.

"Ok great!" Her face melts. "I'm Laney, by the way. Laney Watson."

"Celaena." I shake her outstretched hand. "Are you…. the feminist?"

Her eyes light up. "Yeah! Women's Right's Activist. Sorry about all of that, I get really frustrated at slut shaming. You can dress modest if you want, but it's not fair to criticize someone else's fashion choices because they aren't yours."

I nod. "I get that." She smiles wider at me.

"Great! Well listen, I have to go. But it was nice meeting you Celaena!" She waves at me and flashes another dazzling smile before walking away with her maid with the black hair.

So this was what the Selection was going to be like. Weird.

I turn over to Clyde, who's straining his heck to catch a glimpse of the gorgeous three (that's the caste of an activist… right?) and muttering to himself.

"I still want to dress modest." I tell him.

He looks at me and shrugs. "Cool." He calls Jessamine over. "You're the head maid, right? And the seamstress?"

"Yes sir."

"Fantastic. The lady here would like a modest dress. Go find one for me." Jessamine nods without looking at me and scurries off. "You other two, I want her hair in very loose waves half braided up! I want it casual! We're trimming her hair to her shoulders, not below! I want her makeup nude, classy, refined! Work with me people that girl took some time out of our schedule to give a lecture!" I like what Laney did. This is clearly a cause she believes in, and I respect the fact that what I said was wrong and she had every obligation to correct me. I don't really like that Clyde just shoved her off as some nuisance.

Jessamine comes back a couple of minutes later with a pink elastic cotton dress with two slits on either side. I cringe in disgust. _This wasn't what I meant when I said modest…_

"Whoa whoa whoa! Jessamine, honey, what is this?"

"A dress for Lady Celaena."

"No no, this is not a dress for Lady Celaena this is something that we're going to give to the poor. She'll look like she's going to a strip club in that." I wait for Laney to intervene, before I realize she's gone off and a new girl with New Asian features takes her place. I don't really feel the need to correct him myself; I try not to stir up extra drama if possible. "Oh forget it, I'll find a dress myself." He stalks off, his black loafers clacking behind him.

While we're alone, Jessamine shoots me many glares and I cant help but feel discomfort. Clyde comes back a few moments later with a dress.

The top part is nude colored with a scoop neck and no sleeves. It's cinched at the waist, and then flares into a black knee length skirt. Embellishments decorate the neckline and waistline like snowflakes under a microscope. I run my fingers over the material and gasp. Clyde chuckles, and turns to Jessamine.

" _This_ is a dress, honey." he smirks at her and a bit of blush appears on her cheeks. "Now go find some accessories, I don't want to have to find those too. And I'm sure that your head of maid placement wouldn't like to hear about this…" Jessamine flushes and curtseys.

"I'll do better this time!" She scurries off.

" _She'll going to take forever…"_ Clyde murmurs under his breath. "Polly, start getting her hair ready." He snaps his fingers and I'm whisked away.

She trims my hair somewhat jagged (which I actually surprisingly like…) and then add shine to it. Soon, it's glossy and smooth. She half crown braids it and leaves the rest smooth but wavy, a bit. She just started spraying with hairspray when Jessamine comes back.

"Jessamine, finally! Let's see what you have!" He shoots her a warning glare and she gulps. I can't help but feel bad for her, even if she clearly doesn't like me for some reason.

"I have nude ballet flats, because I don't really think she can wear heels with her height, and diamond studs."

Clyde clicks his tongue. "That shouldn't have taken you this long. But it works, lets go with it." She exhales. I quickly slip on the two new garments she picked out for me.

Next, I'm directed to the makeover chair. Kaylie applies a base coat of concealer, so that it won't cover up my freckles. She adds bronzer and golden brown eye shadow done to absolute perfection. My nails are painted a golden-nude, and I have a dusty rose-ish colored lipstick. I smile, to make sure there's no lipstick on my teeth, and then I'm ready.

When it comes to choosing a signature scent, the choice is easy.

"I don't like perfume." I shrug.

They look at each other warily. "Lady Celaena, you have to-"

"No, I don't. And I wont. I _don't like perfume._ " Clyde sighs, and looks annoyed.

"Fine." I smile. "Now go take your after picture, my masterpiece, you're finally ready."

…

 _This woman looks just like Rosie…_ I can't help but think. She must be youthful still, maybe somewhere between 21-24, give or take. Her ebony hair, the shade that my sister and I share, falls down her back in obviously straitened perfection. Her grey eyes seems calculating and intimidating, just as Rosie's do. She honestly looks a bit scary. But I bet she wasn't. I'm sure she was some kindred-spirit, just like Rosie. I roll my eyes. _I swear if she's some ultra-nice pushover like my sister, I'm going to lose this competition._ Representation is everything.

I strut up to the woman, in a black chiffon dress with a little gold plate on her belt. I notice little square shaped diamond earrings in her pale ears, and gold strappy heels sit uncomfortably on her dainty feet. I'm sure that she doesn't usually wear outfits like this. I come from a family of fives, so I kind of understand a four's perspective (although they're WAY better off than us). But I've never had to dress for the shadows, as the preforming five's do (my oldest sister Annalise and mother included). I always got most of my clothing from my cousin Claudia, who's a two. I looked like a two, with my ebony curls and bright blue eyes. Give me 5 more inches and I could be a model. _The difference between Rosie and this woman,_ I realize, _is that at least my sister knows how to wear higher end clothing correctly._ This woman's dress was half stuck in her belt, and her heels were in disarray. Her little attempts at smoky eyes were done poorly, and I silently beg that she's not the one doing my makeup personally. Rosie married a two a couple of years ago, and she's adjusted nicely. She deserves it, I suppose, and even lets Annalise occupy her empty apartment. If it was me, I would have left her out on the curb, but I think that Rosie takes pity on her because her fiancé died in a riot a couple months before they were married. It's turned Annalise into a bitch; I can't stand to be around her for more than 10 minutes, usually. Even my parents can't stand her, honestly.

She clears her throat when I've finally stopped about a foot in front of her, a hip cocked and a bored expression on my face. "I'm Emilie." She croaks. "Your personal stylist." One of the three girls behind her clears her throat. I notice she has dark blonde hair and brown eyes, and she seems to be around this woman's age. The other two, also blondes, seem much younger, the oldest around my age. "Oh." Emmaline, or whatever her name was, seemed to forget that the other three girls, who if I had to guess were either maids or helpers, were here at all. _I was right, definitely a pushover._ "This is Jeanette," she gestures to the woman who cleared her throat, giving me a smile and a nod which I don't return, "Paige" she shows me the girl about my age, with golden blonde hair and pale brown eyes, "and Christie." Christie shoots me a glare, which I return. _Good luck angering me, kid._ Christine couldn't have been more than 15-16, her little blonde tresses in a five second braid, almost no makeup on her face. I make a mental note not to talk to her if I can help it. "Um… lets talk image. Do you want to change anything, or-"

"Yes. I want my hair cut. Drastically. I'm thinking an inch above my shoulder…" I fiddle with a strand of curly raven hair, which currently fell to my mid back. "And I want to die it grey." Emille does a double take. I simply continue. "I couldn't care less about conservative. If you want to give me tight, give me tight. If you want to give me short, give me short. If you like slits or cutouts, I don't care. I want to stand out." I put emphasis on the last words. "And I want black smoky eyes." The four girls look at me, a bit dumbstruck, until I give them a look and snap my fingers. "What are you waiting for? Go!" I can practically see the gears turning in Ellie's pathetically small brain.

"Oh. Ah, ok. Christine, you do hair, Jeanette, you find a dress and accessories. And Paige, you do the makeup." I'm left alone for a couple of minutes. It makes me groan at how long it takes them. _It's not going to take two hours to find a dress…_

Finally, Jeannette comes back. I instruct her to stay put or find accessories as I go to the dressing room.

She chose for me a cream knit dress with long sleeves. It's loose, but short, and I figure it looks _fine,_ which is a relief. By the time I finish changing, I'm discouraged to find that she's not back yet with accessories. I stand impatiently as she comes back.

"Oh Lady Spencer! You look beautiful in that dress!" With those two sentences, I think I could make my dad cry. All he wanted was a son, and he got three daughters. So I got raised as the son figure would. Don't show emotion, emotions are taboo for guys. Don't do girly things. Don't care about your looks because either you're hot or not _don't you ever touch makeup._ _Never_ enter the Selection. Obviously I disregarded those rules, but what can I say? Claudia convinced me. It's bad enough that my name is Spencer, I'm not going to wind up as some tomboy freak.

"Whatever. Where are my accessories?" Jeanette silently (a blessing, because my maids voices are annoying) hands me each item, starting with teal and rhinestone embellished sandals, then a turquoise stone teardrop stone long necklace, then turquoise stone earrings, and a gold and diamond bangle bracelet.

Next, they put me in the 'hair chair' as I like to call it, where they cut and died it as I wished. They left the roots my dark ebony, but died the rest. And honestly, I loved it! It set a whole new look for me! Cristen gave my hair a bit of body so it just looks kind of messy-sexy, which I actually loved.

Next, Saige does my makeup, hastily, but somewhat skillfully. She gives me the black smoky eyes, per my request, and adds mascara and eyeliner to make my blue eyes pop. She applied rouge colored lipstick, and painted over it with one swipe of colorless lip-gloss, just to give it the slightest of shine. She paints my nails a turquoise to go with my dress, even if I would have thought a French or clear nail would be better. Whatever I guess, this looked ok.

As for signature scent, I couldn't resist it once I saw the name. Goddess of the Universe: The ultimate in femininity; subtle white flowers of jasmine, ylang ylang and honeysuckle delicately pair with an airy white musk that imparts a clean powdery finish. It wasn't overwhelming or as heavily sexy as I had hoped, but at least it smelled ok.

Without so much as a goodbye to my recent company (I was hoping that _some_ of the other Selected girls had a bit more personality than them, otherwise I think I could be bored for maybe the entire rest of my stay here), I strut away, into the world where glamor is a religion and I'm the god.

 **Well, there you go.**

 **GUYS THERE IS ONE MORE FREAKING DAY UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY!**

 **A lot of you guys took guesses at my age, the most common guess from 15-16, with guesses as high as a freshman in high school! However, you're all quite off. I'm currently 12-years-old, and I'll be 13 tomorrow. I'm so incredibly honored that you all thought I was that old! Unless you were doing it not to be rude…. I don't really have a way of knowing. Wow… how does it feel reading a 12-year-old's work? I hope you guys don't stop reading because of my age…. but for some reason I think that some of you might. BUT I REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU WONT!**

 **In other news, I got my braces off yesterday! I've had them on for 4 years going, and I'm praying I wont ever have to wear them again! But now I have a retainer which I hate and surgical implants to get….**

 **Some people had some questions about how the system of the cast list will work. Here's some things I thought I'd clarify.**

 **Reviewing doesn't really have anything to do with getting bumped up.** **Yeah I think I was kind of weird about how I phrased that. It doesn't have anything to do with how much someone reviews (although support is always MUCH appreciated), and more like "I have sudden inspiration to write this character's POV from now on" type of thing. That's worded weird too... but do you get it a bit more now? Like, I'm having a lot of trouble because I want certain girls to be mains but I DONT WANT 10 MAINS! But if I only had 5-6 mains, like I would like, every one would be the 3 or 4 (YES I DID GET ONE THAT WAS 4, ALMOST 5) PMs and there's SO MANY OTHER GIRLS I WANT IN THAT GROUP THAT WERE ONLY 2! (not saying 2 is bad by ANY STRETCH) All I'm saying is it could change based on inspiration.**

 **No, the makeovers do not have anything to do with whether or not your character is a main. Some of the characters who have gotten POVs so far in this story are mains, but not all of them! And I've changed some things, so there are now more Supporting Featured characters, and I've decided that they will sometimes get point of views, just not as frequently as the main characters do.**

 **Those seemed to be the only questions, but if you have any more ask in the reviews/PM me!**

 **Ok, love you guys! Tell me what you think of Celaena (she-who-must-not-be-named) and Spencer (Demigod-Gallagher-Selected)!**

 **-Lily**


	14. It Takes Mistakes To Learn

**GUYS IM BACK! SORRY FOR BEING MIA! And this isn't even very good… sorry… filler, I guess. You should be excited for my next chap, anyways ;)**

 **Waverly:**

I blinked away the spots that danced before my eyes and stepped down the stairs. I stumbled and clutched the side of the platform. _Damn heels…_ I remove my white platform ankle strap heels and hold them in my freshly painted orangey-coral hands. I wait in the corner of the Makeover Room separated for girls who had finished their makeovers.

Smoothing my strapless sweetheart neckline coral dress, I sit down into one of the over stuffed white leather chairs. I drum my nails against the glass coffee table, smacking together my coral lips in boredom.

I really didn't change much in my makeover. I had always had to look somewhat nice for work in my parent's restaurant, and we were pretty well off for our caste. I had my hair trimmed, highlighted barely, and twisted and brought back to form curtains of dark brown curls falling down my back. The hair was the best part.

"Oh my god, those earrings are gorgeous!" A tall brunette appears in front of me. She's dressed in a white dress with purple flowers and her silver and rhinestone nametag reads: _Laney._

I smile at her. "Thanks!" I finger one of the studs picked out for me. Complicated flower things in salmon, coral, and light pink. Some are plastic beads, others rhinestones, and another some sleek cylinder things that I loved.

"And you smell amazing!" She continues. "What's your scent?"

"Mango-Citrus." I reply. "Kinda self-explanatory: mango, grapefruit, orange, and maybe a bit of lime."

"It's beautiful! Mine's Berry Vanilla. Kinda boring, but at least it smells really good!" She stuck out her wrist for me to sniff, and I found that she was right? Creamy French vanilla snaked its way through layers of black berries, raspberries, and blue berries. The vanilla masked the overlaying tart berries with utter sweetness, like vanilla ice cream. I exhaled.

"That wasn't offered to me!" I complain jokingly. She giggles. "But seriously, that smells great!" She smiles.

"Thanks!"

We sit in a bit of an awkward silence, and I begin to search for things to say. Suddenly, we're interrupted by a voice.

"Wait, are you Laney Watson? The female right's activist?" I swing around to see a pretty girl with dark brown hair braided back and curled. A black bow sits in the back of it. She adjusts her dress awkwardly, a beautiful cream thing with black lace on the bottom seam and creeping a bit up into the knee length skirt. She wrings her wrists with her cream and lace patterned fingers, and though she looks a bit nervous, she smiles broadly to reveal a set of perfect teeth.

Laney looks up at her and smiles. "Yeah! And you're Ainsley Reynolds? The novelist, right?"

Ainsley beams. "Yeah! I just wanted to say I love what you fight for, and I think it's important that you do that." Laney giggles.

"A feminist too, I take it?"

"Absolutely!"

Suddenly Laney seems to remember me. "Oh! This is-"

"Waverly Bennett. Competitive surfer, yeah? And Maître D?"

I smile. "Yeah! How did you know that?"

She chuckles. "I did a bit of studying. I couldn't possibly stand not knowing who the other girls were!" She declares shamelessly.

"I literally couldn't bring myself to study people, I was too nervous!" I admit.

She laughs. "I'll help you out with anyone you don't know, ok?"

"Thanks!"

"So, we were talking about signature scents!" Laney continues. "Mine is Berry Vanilla, and Waverly's is Mango Citrus. What's yours?"

"Be Luscious: Amazingly fresh and well-balanced, begins with top notes of apple, cucumber and yuzu; followed by middle notes of magnolia, tuberose, lily of the valley and fresh cut roses; with base notes of sandalwood and white amber. By Barrymore Co., whatever that is." She shrugs.

I smell her outstretched arm. "Mmmmmmm! Smells great!"

She shrugs. "I think that all of them do. They wouldn't give it to us otherwise, right?"

We sit in a sustained silence, a bit awkward, unfortunately.

"So, what do you think the Prince will be like?" Ainsley wonders aloud.

"I don't know," I admit. "I hope he's nice, but he could be an utter jerk. The truth is, none of us will really ever know."

"Ever?" Laney asks. "Why not?"

"Well, if you think about it, he could keep up some façade our entire lives, hypothetically. I'd hope that he didn't, and I have more faith in the future King of Illéa than that, but, who knows?"

"If he's mean, I'm leaving." Ainsley announced. "I joined this contest because I wanted to fall in love, and I cant do that if he's a jerk."

"Yeah, I get that." I agree. "But I need to make it to the Elite. I want to become a professional surfer, and I need to be a two to do that."

Ainsley looks a bit shocked. "Is that really the only reason you entered?"

"No," I quickly try to recover. "not the only reason. But certainly one of the bigger ones." Ainsley goes quiet.

"That's ok, I guess." She says, after weighing the option. "Love isn't the only reason I came either?"

"Money?" I question.

"Nah, I actually made quite enough on my last novel. But I have always loved the whole 'glamorous appeal' to this endeavor. And it should make for great writing inspiration!" Laney chuckles at Ainsley's enthusiasm.

"What'll that be about? You can't write a book _about_ the Selection!"

"Oh I know. But something very similar…" She ponders ideas. "Ooh! What if-ok. So there's this country, right? And they have this monarchy-type-thing, and the way that they pick their king or queen is that a bunch of hand selected older teenagers come to this palace-place where they get trained to be leaders and then one of them gets chosen to rule? Like, the Selection with no romance!"

"Ooh! That sounds _amazing!_ " Laney gushes. "What will the main character's name be?" She taps her chin.

"Icelyn Ellison." Ainsley barely hesitates. "She'll be 16…. pale brown hair and hazel eyes!"

"Ugh that's gorgeous!" Laney agrees. "What'll you call the book?"

"I don't know yet." She taps her chin. "I'll have to think about it. Ugh I have to get started now!"

"Easy there tiger! We have the Selection, plus we're meeting the prince _tomorrow!_ Maybe take a break from that writing stuff!" I point out

"Just because I'm here to fall in love doesn't mean that my readers can't fall in love too. Even if it is with a book. And we're in a contest, that'll just make my detail more exact."

I shrug my shoulders. "If you say so."

 **Eponine:**

"Lady Waverly, why on earth don't you have shoes on?" My dark head of curls snaps to about the center of the room, where our tutor, Cordelia, is by three brown haired girls. One of them, with lightly tanned skin, tries to explain that they were hurting her feet and she was going to put them back on when we were going to leave the makeover room. Cordelia harshly tells her to put them on and that we're pretty much leaving now.

I knew exactly how that girl felt. I wasn't one for wearing heels myself. I could grow to like them, I think, but not right now. And what I wore was more of a heeled boot, anyway. They were lace up and peep-toed, and jet-black, to match the rest of my ensemble, including a black off the shoulder sleeved skater dress and onyx studs surrounded by tiny diamonds. I was going for an edgy look, and my maids -who's names were escaping me currently- had delivered. My makeup artist, for example, has done fabulous eyeliner, making my blue eyes pop. Whatever trick she did with the mascara rocked, because my lashes were longer and fuller, which I loved. As per my request, she gave me dark red lips, and matte nails (the latter of which I did not know what they were at the time, but they were cool to say and it wound up being ok.)

I picked up my jet-black dress and checked for hairs that could be seen on such dark fabric. I picked off a few pieces, and joined the rest of the girls as we toured the palace, my heels clicking as I went.

"Over here you have pieces from the McGovern Era." Cordelia gestures over-dramatically to large paintings framed in ornate gold. "You'll note the alertness in the strokes, and the abstract color choice." I tune that annoying woman out, as I notice most of the other girls have, now simply following her blindly as she attempts to drill a bit of art history into us. Not working. Having nothing better to do, I look at the other girls. The only girl seemingly engaged in this drawl is some girl with chestnut hair braided back on both sides into a bun and embellished with a silver stroke headband, a cream dress with blue flowers and green leaves, and a turquoise colored stone with a silver chain on her neck. She seemed like part of that artsy crowd, and upon her angling her body towards me for a split second to look around, I caught her name tag: _Lady Kalissa._ The ballerina….. _Oh brother._

Cordelia drones on endlessly, and I shuffle around as told. My mind begs me to go riding again, for Race to charm me up and down. But I shut down that thought immediately.

True, it was humiliating that he flat out _turned me down,_ but I _did_ get Selected. But I have to wonder: if he would take me, would I go back to him? _Highly impossible,_ my mind reasons against me, _it seems he's already found someone else._

 _Stupid Race._ He managed to get Molly Ivangarious, one of the trapeze artists at Extravagant Silence –this little blonde thing- pregnant. _Idiot._ Now he's forced to marry her, this _little 16-year-old girl_ who can barely sustain herself. Poor girl. I know that I was in love with Race and all, but that's never how I'd want to get him. Get myself knocked up? I don't even really want kids. He'd be out of the question anyways, even if I wasn't Selected. He's got a wife and a kid to deal with.

"Are you following _any_ of what she's saying?" a girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes approaches me. Her shoes seem silent, and when I look down, I realize they aren't heels at all! They're a type of burgundy-leather flat sandals-lucky… they match her thin flowy black dress with the purple and burgundy flowers on them; with a top knot and sunglasses I'd have thought she was patrolling the streets of north-west Paloma. She managed to pull off the bohemian style look, though, with her red brown hair sloppily pulled back into one braid, knotted, and let loose and natural, and her bright eyes adorned with silver, black, and burgundy. Her lips and nails both shone with a dark red, and around her neck sat an intricate dark silver pendant; maybe a compass of sorts.

"Of course not." I tell her. "Are you?"

"No. I have no interest in art."

I scoff. "I had absolutely no need for it, riding horses."

The girl, -Lady Kaitlyn, as it says on her name plate- looks at me. "You're Eponine? Eponine Newton, right?"

I hold out my pin in front of her so she can see. "What gave it away?" She rolls her eyes.

"Haha. You're hilarious."

"Duh." She smirks at me and shakes her head.

"Well, call me Kaiti. _Lady Kaitlyn,_ " She holds up her tag. "is some girl that I'm not."

"Ok."

We walk side by side in silence, the dull, distant mumbling of Cordelia Thornley in the back ground and the clattering of heels against the marble are the only noises surrounding us. Several maids and guards look at us sideways, and when we catch them staring they advert their eyes. They bustle around, happy being in this fancy bubble of a place, a pestilential palace, oblivious to the world around them and happy for it.

Cordelia takes us to a grand stair case of crema marfil and brass, and begins speaking about something _other_ than art, much to my satisfaction.

"Your rooms are on the second floor." She informs us. "And the royals' are on the third. Entering the third floor is _not permitted at any time._ You'll take your meals in the dining room, spending your free time in the Women's Room, and will celebrate parties in the Great Room, all on the first floor. There is a garden, an outdoor pool, a movie theater, and a gym. The gym you may visit as you wish, the other three will be used currently only for dating purposes. We will become more lenient _if_ you make it past the first round." She looks at us cold in the eyes. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your rooms."

We all silently trudge upstairs to the second floor, trying not to break a heel and make total fools of ourselves. As far as I know, none of us do.

"Lady Eden, you are across from Lady Penelope." She doesn't look up from her clipboard, simply taking her pen and pointing to the room corresponding to the girl she was addressing. Once they were given a room, everyone silently opened the door and went inside: some giving a quick goodbye to a newfound friend, or a curtsey to Cordelia. "Lady Jane, you're next to Lady Auriella. Across from you, Lady Auriella, is Lady Bridget. Next to you, Lady Bridget, is Lady Albany. Across from you, Lady Albany, is Lady Spencer." She listed off names one by one, and the pool of girls whittled down quickly. Soon, Kaiti left, in between Waverly and Riley, and across from Avangeline. Soon, I was one of the three remaining girls left. "Lady Eponine, you are next to Lady Wednesday." Wednesday. That would mean across from Kinsley and on the other side would be one of the other girls. It eventually turned out to be Sonia.

I rolled my eyes and trudged off to my room. Inside, I was greeted by my maids for the second time that day.

"Lady Eponine! You look amazing!" my –rather not attractive- dark haired maid Verity exclaims. I resist my urge to roll my eyes again, but that woman annoys me _so much…_

"Verity! We were the ones who dressed her!" My head maid –a platinum blonde haired girl named Kara- giggles. Her laugh makes me want to scream out with agony.

The final girl, brown haired Elle, rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. I hate her too. _God, could I have gotten worse maids?!_

"So, Lady Eponine-" Kara begins, before a rapping of the doors interrupts her. My maids look at each other, a bit startled, but hastily line up on a diagonal angle from the door. They wait patiently as I open it.

"Oh. It's just like mine." Kaiti doesn't bother with formalities. We both look around my room. The walls were painted a nice robin's egg blue, and dark wood floors. White carpets cover certain areas, like, for example, under the vintage bed, with thin white almost crown-like bed and foot posts. The mattress looked plush, and was covered in a white bed sheet and vintage lace overlay, with four rectangle shaped satin pillows, with aqua and cream throw pillows in many shaped lying perfectly on top of it. White mirrors sit scattered around my room, which could show me close ups of my makeup, dress, shoes, or hands, depending on where I'm standing. A vintage vanity sits on the other side of the room to my bed, in the very corner. Cosmetics line the table, and I call to mind all of the makeup I sport. Usually, I don't need so much. Here, I feel like, I would be out of place without tons. A sitting area of assorted chairs and blankets, in the colors of white and teal sits in the other corner of my spacious room, with a dark mahogany book shelf stocked with novels and a white desk with a teal headlamp and spinning chair. I can't help but wonder what work I'll have to do here in the future, if this contest will be more work than I originally thought. A vintage chandelier hangs above my bed; it's crystals taking in the bright Angeles sunlight from the nearby window and reflects it all around the room, illuminating it in a rather beautiful way. Cream chiffon curtains stand adjacent to a glass set of double door with black mustache handles, going out to a balcony of marble and stone. The air of the room smells new and sweet, something barely there, like honeysuckles and dewy grass, barely there, but sickly. It clashed a bit with the strong scent of my rose and golden amber and blackberry, and though it went with the vintage vibe of my room, I made a mental note to have the first scent removed. That could be for, like, Kalissa from before. Not for me.

"Speaking of which, Lady Newton," Kara asks courteously, clearly silently praying it's ok to interrupt. "Is there anything you would like to change about your room?"

I look around again. "Maybe I'll change the color. What about navy? And then, I guess, all of the teal stuff would have to be changed in for navy."

They exchange a look. "Ok…"

"And can we do something about this scent?" I continue, "It's clashing with my own, it's going to have to go."

"Ok. Is there anything you would prefer, Miss Newton?" Verity asks, while Kara shoots her a glare. I've gathered that the blonde is my head maid. She certainly likes to be in charge…

"Rose, maybe? Amber? Musk? Something that smells good with my scent. We wouldn't want to give the prince a headache."

"Of course! We'll get right on those changes!" Kara exclaims. "Verity, could you please run and tell Miss Adeline Lady Newton's preferences?"

"Yes ma'am." Verity scurries off.

"So what's your scent, then?" Kaiti asks me.

"Rose Amber." I tell her. "It has rose, golden amber, and blackberry in it. Maybe musk and Egyptian vanilla, I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure."

"Sounds gorgeous." Her eyes don't meet mine. "Mine's Blackberry Fizz: it's like, blackberry, strawberry & pomegranate with mandarin, grapefruit, lime, and some vanilla-y smell. I like it. Fresh, sweet but tart fruit flavors. I don't know."

"Yeah, it smells good." I tell her.

"Thanks."

"Well, I just wanted to say hello. And make sure I got your room right. I accidentally went to that eight-Kinsley's-first." I chuckle.

"It takes mistakes to learn." I comment.

"Yeah. Lets hope we don't have to learn that through the Prince. We get one shot at this." Her face is sobered. "One chance for love."

 **Whelp. Sorry that took so long!**

 **GUYS I MADE A PINTEREST! So, follow me! 4Love4Love4 is my username. If you want to pin on the board, shoot me a pm! I politely request that you don't pin garments until after they meet the prince. Then, have at it! I'm posting all of my outfits there.**

 **Well, I hope you thought that was passable! Tell me what you think!**

 **GUYS I MADE A MISTAKE! In the last chap, I said that the oldest someone thought I was was a freshman in COLLEGE, not high school! ITS AN HONOR!**

 **HEY EVERYONE I'M OFFICIALLY 13!**

 **KK. Bye guys. See you next chap!**

 **-Lilsie**


	15. Hello Ladies

**Wednesday:**

"Ooh! What about this bracelet!"

"Serephina, her wrists are way too small!" my head maid takes the maroon gemmed bracelet and placed it back into the jewelry box.

"How about this necklace?" Serephina tries again. This time, she picks up a silver necklace with the silhouette of a rose on it. Madeline nods her head in approval.

"Better." She fastens the chain around my neck, while my maids simultaneously straiten my dress and touch my face to mix any makeup out of place. They had dressed me in dark blue, with a somewhat low V-neck and very skinny spaghetti straps. It was covered in flowers, similar to roses, in maroon, blush, and fuchsia. It was actually a gorgeous dress, and I loved it paired with the pale maroon heels, dark maroon studs, and my necklace. My hair was straitened in a way that it almost fell in curved waves, simultaneously strait and left me very confused as to how they did it. I got a purple-ish eye shadow, which I thought would look gauntly, but wasn't. I got a dark fuchsia lip-gloss, and a lavender-fawn nail polish, bringing in the different colors from the dress. I spun in front of the mirror with glee. _This was really it! Today, I meet the Prince._

"I think you're ready." April looks to Madeline and Serephina, who nod their heads in agreement.

"Absolutely."

I smile at them broadly and flash them a thumbs up. Not only does this portray my enthusiasm and thanks, but also if I had lip-gloss on my teeth they would probably notice. How handy.

I head out the door, and right before it shuts fully, I head a "Good luck, Lady Wednesday!" _They're never going to call me Wendy, are they?_

Cordelia had instructed us to come down at 7:30. I planned to be there exactly on time, not a minute early or a second late. I was no freak about being on time, but I felt that, at least in this instance, it was somewhat important.

As I arrived in a room which we had been told would lead to the dining hall where we would have breakfast-if we made it past the first round- I counted 27 girls. I tried to count the ones who were here, and deduct those who weren't, but I found it hard.

 _Ok, so that one's definitely Lady Riley, you'd recognize her bright hair anywhere._ Lady Riley's pink, lavender, and sky blue hair was braided in an intricate way and curled somehow, and was brought back to be an updo. _God I'm not good at describing hairstyles…_ I noticed that the other Selected girl with colorful hair, Brynlee Cozart, one of the eights, wasn't here yet.

I noticed the two other ones here as well. Lady Blanca stood silently, oozing grace in her feminine light pink chiffon dress with a black lace belt and matching sleeves. She had a lot of diamonds on, I noticed, and black strappy heels. Very put together.

Lady Avangeline went for a more glitzy approach. Her dress was short and sparkled in the lights of the Angeles sun through the windows.

 _That's Medli, Ainsley, Albany, Catherine, Laney, Penelope, Jane, Finnly, Kalissa, Cosette, Genevieve… who else?_

As the clock ticked 7:31, Eponine Newton strides into the room, shortly followed by Kaitlyn Owens. By 7:46, the last girl, Chance Huntley, walks in, and we're ready to begin.

However, clearly, just because we have to be on time, Prince Carter must not. It isn't until 8:06 that he waltzes into the room (after his mother, father, _and_ Princess Blair have already entered and greeted us warmly), his dark hair perfectly gelled and his black suit perfectly crisp. He oozes a sense of superiority and confidence, and I can't help but admire that trait.

The girls and I straiten our dresses and hair quickly, hoping to put our best foot forward-look wise. I wonder if the rest of them are as nervous as I am. We curtsey haphazardly, some small, and the rest trying desperately to outdo everybody else's. Mine is quick and small, as if it never happened.

"Hello Ladies. I'm so excited to finally meet you." He flashes us a smile, and I see chills running through _at least_ one girl's body. "I'm so sorry that I'm late, I'm afraid I has business to attend to." He claps his hands. "Now, I'm sure you're all as hungry as I am, so lets try to make this quick. Lady Blanca?" Blanca smiles coyly and curtseys low, maybe hoping to flash a bit of her chest, I don't know. He stalks off with her in tow-or is it the other way around?

I can't help but wonder why they started with Blanca, seeing as she's from Kent. But from pieces of conversations of those around me, I notice I'm not the only one.

"I think it's because she was announced first on the _Report._ " A voice whispers, from whom, I'm not sure.

 _Well then,_ I think to myself, _if we're going by order of announced… that would make me 18_ _th_ _._ I sigh. _This could take a while._

 **Yeah yeah, that was almost nothing, I know. I had already written almost all of this chapter by the time I realized that it made no sense for Wendy to be one of the first to meet the prince, and I had to cut it off. Wow. Not even a thousand words for you guys. Sorry.**

 **Next chapter will be the INTERVIEWS! Tell me who's POV YOU think I should do! And authors, if you have any ideas for your characters, don't hesitate to tell me! This could range from some of the questions asked, reactions to being around him, etc. Anything you can think of!**

 **kk! LOVE YOU GUYS! SEE YA NEXT TIME**

 **-Lily**


	16. Stupid Questions

**That awkward moment when it's been more than 20 days and you still have nothing of substance to put up.**

I was pleased to find that the first girl I interviewed was not dull at all.

On the contrary. Lady Blanca was extremely enjoyable to talk to. Respectable, flirtatious, sexy: she seemed great.

"So Lady Blanca," I began, "tell me about coming into this competition as a One."

She took a deep breath and crossed her long legs. Strappy black heels hung from her dainty feet painted a blush color to match the pink of her dress. The rest of the dress was lace, like the high waist and straps.

"None of the girls are discriminatory or anything. Then again, I haven't really spoken to them much…" She chuckles, looking down at her lap and smiling shyly. "I'm kind of worried that they'll see me as too much of a competition to even talk to me, you know?"

I nod, understanding somewhat what she's trying to say. I've never met anyone before these girls who wasn't a one, but I could imagine.

"Us One's have to stick together, right?" She smiles at me coyly and I smirk in return to show that I'm interested and for her to keep doing exactly what she's doing. She gets my message and winks at me. "No one will understand like a One."

"There's truth to that." I admit to her.

She shrugs. "If you ever need to get something off your chest… I'm here, ok?" She gives me a tiny pout. I nod. "As long as if I need to, I can get something off of mine…" She puffs out a bit, flaunting in a classier way than showing me all of her cleavage but instead letting my mind wander.

"Ok." I agree dumbly.

"Anyways, I'm afraid that the girls wont tell me things because they're intimidated of my status. But there's really nothing to be intimidated over!" She giggles. "I'm not really worried. I think that I'll make lots of friends, as far as the Selection goes." Her shining pink lips flatten into a closed mouth smile.

She tossed a beach blonde curl behind her shoulder and her diamond chandelier earrings shook a bit. "So anyways," She continues. "just call for me if you need me, ok?" She smirks. "You know where to find me." I nod and grin.

"Well, I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today." I tell her, regrettably. She gives me another pout.

"Ok. I'll see you soon?" She winks and gets up, and I almost don't have the voice to call over the next girl.

…

Lady Avangeline Astor walked up to me slowly, her long legs swaying with the dramatic click of her heels. She had on a purple sequin dress that hugged her curves and exposed her shoulders. Black gold and diamond earrings fell from her curtain of dark brown curled hair. I was slightly taken aback at how tall the girl was-maybe 6'1" in her shoes. I knew that the girl was a one…. but she looked as model as I had ever seen anyone before. She didn't smile at first, but grinned hesitantly as she sat down.

"Hi!" She offered me a smile. I was very surprised by the friendliness of her tone, so seeming to not match her attire at all.

"Hello Lady Avangeline." I say, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"You can just call me Ava." She tells me with a wave of her dark silver painted hand.

"Ok. Well then you can just call me Carter." She smiles shyly at me. "So, Ava, tell me a bit about yourself."

Her face lights up. "Well, I like to read, swim and run mainly. I play cello because my parents wanted me to, and that's ok too. I usually wind up either running or swimming every day. We have this beautiful swimming pool in our backyard back in Hansport; in between lush dogwoods and cherry blossoms and in most seasons their petals fall and float in the water, so it always smells nice. I have so many great memories with my sister Arabella there. She's 24 now, and studying diplomatic relations in Sicily, but the memories we share are irreplaceable." She smiles dreamily, lost in her memory. I can't help but smile.

"You're close with your sister, I take it?"

"Oh absolutely! We tell each other everything." She gushes. "Are you close with your sister?"

"Blair?" I'm taken a bit by surprise at her question. I wasn't expecting anyone to ask me anything… "I guess we're close. Our relationship is mostly sarcastic, to be honest, but at least that brings some humor into it." I shrug.

"It's always important." She confirms, chuckling softly.

Almost immediately our conversation tapers off a bit. I can't help but deflate a bit; our conversation had been going so well.

I dismiss her quietly leaving me wondering if it's big enough for an elimination.

…

Immediately, Lady Isabelle Acocella was different from the other two girls. True, I knew for a fact (Delia and my mother had both drilled every name, appearance, caste, and occupation of all thirty-five Selected members, which was slightly excruciating) that this girl was a six and the other two were ones. A translator, if my training served me correctly. This girl seemed timid and yet finding her bravery. I noticed that her back was slightly hunched and her hands kept twitching as if she was trying her very best not to crack her knuckles or popping her fingers. Her silver rings could have been one of her reminders. She offered me a warm-yet shaky-smile while curtsying and sitting down across from me on the navy and silver chairs set out.

I knew that your outfit meant nothing about you-I learned that with Ava- but I think that Isabelle countered this. She wore a strapless light blue dress with a skirt that flared out a bit. It was covered in white roses with dark grey leaves, and had white heels to go along with it. Her dark brown hair, similar to the color of chocolate, was up in a bun and the remaining strands were held back by a silver rose silhouette headband. She smiled faintly, her eyes the color of coffee aglow.

Then she started speaking.

"You're such a babe." I sit there, silently. _She's meeting the prince of Illéa and_ that's _the first thing she says?_

"Um, thank you." I tell her cordially, not quite sure of how to respond. She smiles. _Well where the hell do I take this conversation now?_ "So, Lady Isabelle, tell me about yourself." I say tensely. I feel bad for judging this girl so quickly, but I can already feel myself ease away from her.

Her smile deflates and she clams up. I watcher her try to wring her wrists, only causing her silver, diamond, and black rose bangles to jingle around and her to flush a bit, her natural Italian looking tone paling. "Oh… Um, I'm just me." _What._

"What do you mean, 'just you'?" I ask her, my patience running thin.

"Well, I am Isabelle." She throws her hands in the air in mock defeat. "I grew up in Italy, I am a translator, and I borrow other people's words." She shrugs.

"What do you mean, borrow other people's words?" I ask, confused.

"Well, I hear people saying things around me and I repeat them. It's cool man." _You're such a babe. It's cool man. Are these things she picked up from people around her or her actual vocabulary of phrases?_ At any rate, I feel myself getting annoyed with them.

"So, being a translator, what is that like?" I try to steer her away from things that it's weird to say. She's pretty… but pretty annoying….

"Well, I kind of just follow around ambassadors and people from other countries and explain everything. It is a lot of talking. Sometimes I just want to shoot myself." She chuckles but I almost fall out of my seat. _Ok Lady Isabelle, I think we're done here._

I dismiss her quickly and rub my eyes as she goes, hoping for someone that doesn't make me so uncomfortable.

…

I was even more nervous to meet Kinsley, the first eight of the Selection. She smiled broadly, her red dark red lips almost off-place with her tan skin and light brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail and straitened. She wore a navy knee-length dress with no sleeves and the slightest bit of a scoop as a neckline. The dress was really simple, really, with no fancy fabrics or patterns or anything like that. Made of a sturdy material, I could tell. In her ears sat simple silver studs and a silver cuff sat on her left arm. Lady Kinsley was practical, I could see by her attire. Everything she wore seemed simple and breathable, and if she wasn't wearing those strappy 3-inch heels, she could also walk 10 miles easily.

She gives me the faintest of a curtsey, as if wishing to pretend it didn't happen, and –averting her dark brown eyes from my blue ones- sat down. She promptly crossed her legs and folded her arms. Her expression looked a bit bored, and I wasn't sure whether or not it was her natural face or if she was actually bored.

"Hello, Lady Kinsley."

"You can call me Kinsley." She grumbles. "If you want to, that is." I nod.

"Call me Carter then?" She considers it before nodding tentatively. I study her, not sure what to ask. _Can eights even have hobbies? Wouldn't they be too worried trying to find food and getting money and thinking about winter and how they can get themselves not to freeze to death?_ I knew that asking about a hobby was out of the question. _And what about family? Did she run away? Is she an orphan? Did she get kicked out of her home? Does she even have any family?_ I resist the urge not to wring my hands through my hair. _What do I ask an eight?_

"So," She begins for me, "I'm your first eight, right?" I nod. "So are you going to ask me stuff or should I just start talking?"

I wave my hand, grateful that I don't have to lead the conversation. "Go right ahead." She nods and thinks a second.

"Ok. Well, I'm Kinsley, I live in Zuni, and I'm a street performer." She begins. "I used to be a five, which is how I know how to dance, sing, draw, and play basic piano. I stay with my sister Cassie, who's deaf, and our friend –more like my brother- Jake. We're all eights." I physically tense up a bit at the mention of the caste. A one and an eight. "So yeah, that's me." She kind of relaxes her already relaxed position, and I figure that now I have actual things to start questions on. So there's that, at least.

"So you used to be a five?" She nods.

"Yeah."

"So why are you not anymore?" _Stupid question Carter._ "I mean, if it's ok to ask." I assure her, trying to backtrack a bit and sound less rude.

"Oh, it's this whole thing with my sister-she's a five, yeah? Well, you can't really have a deaf five. That's never a going to work. I don't know, never mind that." She waves it off as if she's trying to hold back a huge rant, which only intrigues me further on the topic. But I decide it's best not to pry for the time being.

"Interesting. I'm afraid that's all the time we have right now." I bend down to kiss her hand and she tenses, tersely striding away.

 **Guys omg I'm such a bad author. I literally waited more than 20 days and this is all I have. Sorry.**

 **I kind of just wanted to put something up, so here it is! Tell me what you think about all of this nothingness! ;P**

 **OOH GUYS IM AUNT EM IN MY SCHOOL PLAY AND I HAVE A FULL SONG SOLO AND IT'S THE FIRST SONG OF THE PLAY IM SO EXCITED**

 **-Lily**


	17. Something That Will Never Be

**Ok I get this took a million years but I also busted out at least three 6 PM (approx. 14 pages each) applications and wrote you guys 12 interviews. I want to wrap these up ASAP, but I BADLY due Maxie, p o e ts-in-love, and Star their OCs. I'M TRYING GUYS I SWEAR! Enjoy whatever's here!**

Lady Waverly I had wanted to meet since the day that the Selection was announced. Easily one of the most gorgeous girls in the Selection, her natural beauty didn't waver this morning. Her dress was a very pale robin's egg blue, fit and flare, and had a sweetheart neckline with no straps. I noticed her knees, which seemed a bit knobby and out of place with her long legs. I'd take it she was about 5'10" with her blue suede platform strappy sandals (the same color as her earrings, so aesthetically pleasing), because they seemed _at least_ 3 inches tall. Her glossy dark brown waves were left down but braided back in some waterfall-side-down thing that I had seen Blair wear before. It was cute. In it were little teal stones, maybe bobby pins or something, to give herself a bit of flair without standing out too much. In short, she looked absolutely _stunning_. Understated, and yet simply gorgeous. Just the right touches. She looked perfect.

I took a deep breath to center my thoughts and spoke.

"So, Lady Waverly, tell me about yourself." I figure that this is an ok question to ask, since I asked most of the other girls this, but I can see she's struggling on where to start, opening her mouth and then closing it and looking off, as if thinking about where to begin. I decide to help her out-just a bit. "What do you like to do?" She answers this a lot easier.

"I love to read and play guitar." She starts, "Well, really ukulele. My older brother Wes taught me. Wesley. He also taught me how to surf, and I compete in competitions with my best friend Lillia." She tells me.

"You said you had a brother? Wes? Or-Wesley, I guess?" She nods. "How old is he?"

"22." She responds. "I'm probably closest to him out of all of my brothers-even if he's the oldest. I have two others, but Chase is kind of introverted and Chad and I fight over a lot of pointless stuff." She shrugs. "Wes is _crazy_ immature and a ridiculous flirt, but he's also very patient and willing to teach me stuff. I spend the most time with him, anyways."

"So, you're one of four then?" She nods. "And the only girl?"

"Yeah. It's kind of hard, especially since I don't really make friends easily, but I love my family more than anything." Her cognac eyes gleam a bit, as she talks in favor of her family.

I can't help but admire that. Her pure devotion to them. How much she values and loves them.

"Are you the youngest?" I ask her.

"Yep. Chase is 21 and Chad is 19."

"That must be interesting. Being the youngest."

She chuckles. "If by interesting you mean occasionally torturous…" We laugh. "Then sure."

We share a smile, but as I sober up I look at the clock to find that that's all of the talking I have time for-with her anyway.

I quickly dismiss her and the next girl comes in.

…

The next girl is the second eight-Lady Arizona Dawson. I'm slightly-slightly- horrified to see her with no legs. Or at least, she doesn't seem to have any. Whatever she may have is covered by her peach dress, with pleats and no sleeves and a simple neckline, like Kinsley's. I can't see any shoes, and when she notices me looking she flushes and gives me a wary smile. Her beautiful blonde hair is messily waterfall-chain braided and hangs loosely down her back.

She doesn't bother to greet me at first, simply making one thing clear before we proceed. "Ok, I just want to say," She starts, "that I don't need help. OK? I've been in a wheel chair for nine years." My mouth parts open as I let out a bit of a gasp. She crosses her hands over her chest and I can see she's trying not to roll her eyes.

"If I may ask, Lady Arizona, what happened?"

She sighs. "Well, you can, but I feel like that's a story for another time." Taking the hint that she isn't in the mood to talk about it, I nod casually and change the topic.

"Ok. So tell me something completely random about yourself." _Anything. Anything besides about your leg._

She considers. "My favorite animal is a butterfly." She smiles hesitantly.

"Wait-really?" I chuckle, bemused. She shrugs her shoulders and smiles. "That's not even an animal! It's an insect." We're both laughing.

"Eh. Animal-insect. What's the difference?" We continue our chuckling. "Fine, ok? Your Princeliness. My favorite _creature_ is a butterfly." We're laughing much harder now.

"Did you just call me 'Your Princeliness?'"

"I'm afraid I did."

"How do you come up with that?" I shake my head and look at my lap, still laughing.

"Rolls off the tongue." She explains.

"Is that true?"

"Oh, yes sir."

"Well, it's been great, Lady Arizona." She bows her head as she starts to wheel herself off.

"Oh-and you _definitely_ don't need to call me _Lady_ anything, ok?"

We share a smile. "Fine. But don't you go calling me Your Princeliness." She laughs as she wheels away and leaves me with echoes.

…

The vibe I get from Lady Sage Martinez is completely original from the other girls I've ever met so far. Her step is full of spring, and it makes me how used to walking in 3-inch tan suede ankle strap heels she is. Her dress flounces, a mix of red, cream, blush, and some deep admiral blue-turquoise flowers, with a cinched waste and no sleeves. Her caramel brown hair was braided back into a bun, exposing gold leaf earrings; even though I'm sure it would look stunning down, and even match her bright smile more. She had three gold chain necklaces with varying lengths, two with crystals and another with a pendant with a word that I couldn't quite make out. She radiated everything earthy and grounded. Pleasant and smiley, I was immediately drawn to her.

"Lady Sage," I start, kissing her hand. She blushes and chuckles.

"Prince Carter." She curtseys. "You can just call me, Sage, if you want."

I smile. "Just call me Carter, then." She chuckles.

"Ok."

"So, Lady Sage, tell me about yourself."

"Well," She begins. "I've lived on this _magnificent_ vineyard all 17 years of my life. We must have bought it before my older sisters were born…." She trails off.

"You have siblings?" I inquire.

"Yep! Josefina and Kansa, they're twins." She smiles at the thought of them. "They both entered the Selection, actually!"

"What was their reaction to not getting chosen…." I ask tentatively.

"Well, Kansa was less than happy. Josefina was nice, just like she always is. And she was happy for me. But I secretly think that she was a lot more disappointed than she let on… Anyways, her and Kansa got in a big fight, which didn't end well, and it didn't really seem like they were on the best terms by the time I left…"

"Oh. I'm sorry." I started to notice a pattern. Ava was close with her sister. Kinsley was close to her sister, and her somewhat adopted brother. Waverly was very close with her brothers. And now there's Sage, who seemed close with one of her sisters and a bit less with her other. I recalled my relationship with Blair. What was it, in comparison to their relationship with their siblings?

She laughs sadly. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll work it out." Awkward silence. Her usual spark isn't gone completely, but snuffed out a bit. I dismiss her quickly and the next girl comes in.

…

Lady Chance couldn't have been taller than 5'5" in her 2 inch heels, but _man,_ I had never seen someone who looked more like a model. She completely _oozed_ sex appeal, from the way that she walked to the way she smiled coyly as she sat down in front of me. A black patterned dress hugged whatever curves she had, with spaghetti straps, a V-neck, and a pencil skirt. Her flaming red hair was pulled back at the very top in a sexy way, and fell down her shoulders in long waves. From her ears came gold drops, and I noticed that she had two other piercings in one ear and one other in the next with no earrings in them at all. She wore no other jewelry. Her look was completed with luscious dark red lips and golden eye shadow. Not even tacky. Just sexy.

"Hello, Lady Chance?" She allows me to kiss her hand as she smiles coyly at me.

"Chance is fine." I nod.

"Chance, tell me something random." It sure seemed to work with Arizona, but Chance seems to be at somewhat of a loss. "What's your favorite food?" I offer.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, although I can see she's trying to suppress a smile. "Favorite food? I'm meeting with the crown prince of Illéa and were talking about favorite food?" She can no longer contain her smile anymore. _Beautiful smile._

"Sure." I tell her. "This place is held in way more of an esteem than it should be. To the outside world, you're Lady Chance and I'm Prince Carter. But here, you're Chance and I'm Carter. The end." She nods hesitantly.

"Well in that case, _Carter_ , my favorite foods are French fries…. pizza… chocolate…. and peppermint." She lists them off on her fingers as she names each junk food. I chuck and she smiles at me, close lipped. "Ummm excuse me, Carter, do my favorite foods make you laugh?"

"No no, you're good." I insist.

"Ummmm well then why are you laughing?" She doesn't smile, but I know she's joking and I laugh again. She crosses her arms. "I will eat whatever food I want."

"Ah, that reminds me. We can't eat until I finish my interviews and I have like…."

"A lot of people left." She finishes. "I can take a hint. I'm hungry too." She flashes me a wink, but doesn't smile, as she gets up and struts back to her seat.

 _Which one of these girls would I give up my meal to talk to…._ I can't help but wonder. Like, if I had the option of either talking to them or having breakfast, which one of these girls would I rather talk to? Or would there be several? Or maybe none at all… I push the thought out of my mind as the next girl walks up.

…

I debated on whether or not Lady Kalissa was the polar opposite to Chance. For one, when you saw her, the first thing you would think of was _Lady._ She wore a pleated pink chiffon dress with silver and white flecks on it, and was strapless with a tiny V-neck. Her hair was twisted back and fell down her back in soft chocolate curls. In her ears were dainty pearl studs and I saw a very faint silver necklace. She had maybe 2-inches of a silver heel, with maybe some pink element to it. She was the epitome of all that was feminine and girl. Beautiful, but pale in comparison to Chance. Still, I was eager to meet the stunning girl.

She curtseyed and I could immediately tell that she was a dancer. Her simple movement -that I had seem a million times- showed grace and poise, with the sweeping movements that a dancer with a million years of years of training knows how to do.

I kissed her hand she blushed, before she gracefully sat down in front of me.

"Lady Kalissa, is it?"

She nods, puffing out a bit. It seems like she really likes being called "Lady", and the properness of it. I can tell that she sees the phrase as one of importance. And I'd guess, being a five, that doesn't come to her often. Therefore I don't tell her to call me Carter. Not because I don't like her or anything, but so we can match-at least in one respect.

"You're a dancer, aren't you?" I ask.

She looks genuinely surprised that I would have known this. "Yes, actually. How did you know?"

I decide to neglect the fact that mom and Delia made me memorize everyone. That detail would be spared. "It's the way you carry yourself." Not even a lie. It was that too.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And the way you curtsied too." I add. "I've seen a million girls curtsey before, in my lifetime. The only other person who curtseys like that is Searra, and she's a dancer too."

"Princess Searra?" She clarifies.

I nod. Searra is the youngest daughter of Aunt Victoria and Uncle Jackson. She had the same fiery red hair as Chance and the cooling brown eyes of Waverly, with the sweetness of Lady Arizona and all of the grace in the world. It wasn't like I was as close with her as I was with Bex, but she was easily the sweetest of us all.

She smiles. "I'll have to talk to her; maybe we can dance together." I brighten.

"I think she'd love that. She was one of the most excited to meet you guys." Searra is only 14, making her the second youngest cousin, minus Courtney, who's 12. Her and Tierney both talked about it as if was the only important thing in the world.

"I'd love it too." She smiles, pleased. "And yes, I am a dancer."

"How long have you been dancing for?"

"About…. 15 years?" My mouth drops.

"Really?"

She smiles. "Dancers have to start young, so that they can get proper training and experience early. If they don't have it, they cant find work." I shrug,

"I guess that makes sense." The conversation fizzles out completely. But I smile anways. We might not have gone far, but the conversation at least wasn't boring.

…

Lady Bridget Cohen was someone who I was initially really really excited to meet. What can I say? She's blonde and badass. Guys love that. She was quite possibly the only attractive winner _ever_ of the Amazing Race. And _she_ wanted to marry me!

I couldn't tear my eyes of of the blonde in the red dress. Sexy as hell. The bodice was made of lace and the skirt was pleated chiffon. It was spaghetti strapped and fitted around the waist. The deep crimson matched the red of her lips and nails. Her heels were black and platform, with red rose designs on them. Her hair was wavy and she wrung her hand through it before letting out a sigh and sitting down.

I gingerly kissed her hand, and she looked around-bored almost. I gulped. She's the first girl to genuinely not show any interest in me right off the bat…

"Have you been enjoying the Selection?" I ask her."

"Yeah. It's ok." She shrugs.

I chuckle. "Just ok?"

"Yeah." my smile fades.

"So why did you join the Selection?" I ask her, now genuinely curious.

She shrugs again. "My mom forced me to." My heart deflates.

"That's all?"

"Yes." She says simply. "After I won the Amazing Race, I didn't really have anything to do. I went to bars a lot. Brought home a lot of guys. Harmless makeouts, but still. She thought that the Selection would put me in my place. The place she wants me to be." She glares, at nothing in particular.

"Oh." I say, seeming to have nothing else.

"Yeah. You can eliminate me." She says. "Like, it could mean some other girl's happiness. Just eliminate me, ok? I don't even really want to be here."

I take a deep breath, utterly upset. This is the first girl I've ever met to not want me…. not including my cousins, at least. "Of course."

She offers me a close lipped smile as she gets up and struts away. The end of something that will never be.

…

Lady Xia seemed very eager to pick me back up. She offered me a broad smile as she brushed a strand of strait ebony hair behind her hair, but it gets stuck on a diamond stud. She fumbles around with it until it becomes undone, and, laughing, she sits down, first smoothing her lime chiffon one shoulder dress out.

"Sorry about that." She giggles a bit, laughing it all off.

"It's quite alright, Lady Xia."

"Call me Xia." she waves me off with a wide smile. "Figures though. I mean, I'm meeting the Prince of Illéa in hopes of becoming his bride and the very first thing I do is spend three minutes trying to get my hair uncaught from my earring." I start to laugh, and she does too.

"Call me Carter." I instruct. "And does that hurt? Like, getting your hair stuck in an earring?"

"Mainly just inconvenient. It's trying to get it _untangled_ that's the excruciating part. Its like ripping out your scalp for like, 30 seconds." I laugh. "Anyways, I'm sure that you've never had to deal with that before, I'm not sure if you would understand."

I can see her trying to desperately continue a conversation, but it doesn't exactly seem to be working. I smile at her encouragingly. "Well, no. My hair is fairly short. Plus I don't have my ears pierced.

"Right." Awkward silence. I can see her internally panicking. "My hair doesn't really get caught often, though."

I give her a sad smile and a pitiful laugh. She sighs, mumbling a, _this isn't working_ before curtsying and walking away, her head hung low.

…

In a word, I guess I could describe Lady Medli Sparks as conservative. The skirt of her light blue dress was down past her knees and made of blue tulle, or some material like that. She had a slightly darker blue sash made of satin, or something, and long ice blue lace sleeves which went all the way down to her wrists. She had white heels, even though she seemed plenty tall without them. Her light brown hair fell down her shoulders, and she had to push it out of her eyes.

"Hello, Lady Medli."

"Call me Medli."

"Call me Carter." She smiles. "Tell me about yourself, Lady Medli. Tell me what sets you apart from the rest of the Selected."

"My prosthetic hand? Does that count?" She sees the look on my face and chuckles, and then does her best to pull up her sleeve, with no avail. "Damn sleeves… I'll show you later. But I do have one."

"And…. what did you do to acquire this 'prosthetic hand?'"

"A plane crash. You've probably heard of it and you just don't remember."

"Oh."

She chuckles, but I can see a bit sadness flicker across her face. "I also had to be driven in a car to the palace. All the way from Allens."

"That's….. that's really far away!"

"Roughly nine hours by car."

"Wow." She laughs. "What?"

"It wasn't that bad. My dad is cardiologist Will Smoke, arguably one of the best in his field. We travel around by car all of the time for his work. We obviously don't take a plane anymore. Not after what happened."

"I would hope not." I shake my head. "Where's the longest you've ever traveled by car?"

"I rode for 31 hours to Baffin once. I hated that convention…."

I laugh. "I don't think that I've ever ridden in a car for longer than 20 minutes to the airport." She laughs will me.

"I'm sure you haven't."

"So wait, if you didn't take a plane, have you met any of the girls yet?"

"Nope."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little bit. Or-well now I am. Thanks a lot Carter…." I laugh. "This isn't funny!" She says, smiling and slapping me on the shoulder. "I was fine until you said something!"

I just shrug my shoulders, laughing at her. "Stop laughing at me." I cant. "Stop." More laughing. "Stop it."

Much to her mock aggravation, I don't stop laughing. If just to make her angry.

She sighs. "You're horrible at not laughing."

"Sorry." I say, sobering up. She rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Anyways, it was great meeting you, Medli." I bow to her

"Likewise." She curtseys. "Learn to control your laughter." She wags a finger at me as she walks away.

"Fat chance."

…

"One thing you should know about me." Lady Eden starts. "I bat for the other team."

"Huh?" I stare at the redhead, now very curious. Her hair is curled and pinner up, and she brushes a nonexistent strand away, as if on habit. Her choice of dress, I notice, is quite peculiar. Cherry red. On her skirt, anyways. And her sleeves. The bodice of her dress is cream, with a red lace and short sleeves. She has red gem studs in her ears-ruby maybe, and a silver and ruby ring on her right ring finger.

"I lay peekaboo at Lucy Loo."

"What? Who is Lucy Loo?" She looks at me frustrated.

"Dude, literally how dense are you? I'm a lesbian."

Her words surprise me. "Wait-what?"

She gives me an exasperated sigh. "I like girls. Not guys." I open my mouth, but I'm at a loss for words. "Sorry?"

"No, no, don't apologize. I don't judge."

She sighs in relief. "Thank God."

"So wait, if you're a lesbian why did you enter the Selection?"

" _Crazy_ bullying back at home. I just had to get away. I couldn't take it anymore." She takes a deep breath. "Hey, could I like, stay? I could be a friend or something."

"A friend?"

"Yeah. Notice how the girls act when you're not there. Report back. Tell you what they think of you whenever you come up."

I consider her offer. "Ok. That sounds ok."

She smiles at me. "Great." She gets up and walks away. That's all. No curtsey or anything. Just a happy smile stretched across her face. Poorly concealed and radiant.

…

The plain Lady Aurelia I saw on the report was not at all the radiant young woman who stood before me today. She wore a ribbed punch colored skater dress with little cutouts on the sides, which made her appear tanner. She had gold strap heels, a gold diamond geometric bracelet, and gold circle earrings with pink, purple and other tiny colored crystals at the stud. Her hair was lace braided and then fed into a side ponytail. She looked simply beautiful.

"Lady Aurelia." I greet, kissing her hand.

"Call me Aury."

"Ok. Call me Carter, then." She smiles. "So Aury, tell me about your life. Do you have any siblings?" I noticed a trend that all of the girls I talked about their families with made a lasting impression. It seems to be one of the most effective ways to get them to start to talk.

"Oh. Oh yes." She smiles. "I have five siblings. I'm the oldest of six." My mouth gapes.

"Really?" She nods, smiling. "That's a lot for a three…."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I know."

"So," I continue. "Tell me about them. What are their names?"

"Well, first there's the twins. They're 15, Addilyn and Aiden. Then Evan, who's 13, Lainey, who's 11, and seven-year-old CJ. The twins argue all of the time. They're probably the biggest contributing factor as to why our house is so noisy. But then there's also Evan, who's the prankster. He gets a lot of people _really_ really angry. Lainey's my favorite. Sweet as can be, and she's always reading. I like that about her. We have to share a bed, considering our house only has three bedrooms. Addilyn and CJ also share one, in our room, and Evan and Aiden share their own room. Plus there's my parents." She smiles lazily, lost in the memory of her family. I was right. Talking about your family is a gold mine for conversation.

"Only three bedrooms?" I clarify. The palace has a little under 100, if I recall correctly. I try to imagine a house with only three.

"Yep." She shrugs. "It makes for a hell of a noisy place, especially since my aunt and uncle moved in with us. But we're all really close, so it's ok." She smiles.

"So that's what? 10 people in a three-bedroom house?" She chuckles.

"Yep."

"Are you enjoying having your own bed for once?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't half of the reason I entered." I laugh.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Aury."

"Likewise, Carter." She smiles, and gets up to go. I can't help but smile as she leaves.

…

One look at Lady Genevieve Lemaire and I knew she wasn't a girl to be messed with. It was something in her loose dark brown curls, her stormy grey eyes surrounded with purple eye shadow. In her plum dress; strapless and clean cut, cinched at the waist and made of a sturdy material. Her black high heels, her black and silver bracelets. She simply struck me as someone who's genuinely intimidating.

She curtseyed, but it felt like I should be the one bowing down to her, not the other way around. Huh.

"Good morning, Lady Genevieve."

"Likewise, Prince Carter." I notice she doesn't correct me from _Lady_ Genevieve, so I make a mental note to call her that.

"How have you been enjoying the Selection so far?"

"It's nice." She says politely. I wait for her to expand, but she never does. I mentally groan _. I'm going to have to be the head of this entire conversation now, aren't I…_

"How so?"

"The staff, I suppose." She starts. "My maids have been kind to me, as have the rest of the staff. They're all quite talented."

"Really?"

"Yessir."

"Sir?" I chuckle. "Why so formal?"

She only shrugs. My smile fades.

"Ok. It was nice to meet you, Lady Genevieve."

"Likewise." She curtseys and I bow, and I wait, hoping for the next girl to have a bit more personality. In the kindest sense.

…

Lady Wren looked even more stunning now than she did on the report. Her red curls offset her turquoise dress, made of a crinkly fabric that seemed quite simple with a weird type of sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps. Little bits of eyeliner made her eyes pop, clearly noticeable now. One green, one silver. I wasn't hallucinating. As she strutted, I noticed black heels, an intricate turquoise, silver and gold ring, and mosaic type teal and silver drop earrings. I noticed immediately that she was tall, like a model. Skinny like one too. She looked almost as willowy as Kinsley or Lady Arizona-but lets be real, there was still a divide (I'm not sure anyone could be as skinny as an eight. But she was close, nevertheless).

She smiled at me. I looked her up and down. She seemed genuinely nice, giddy, sweet. I spoke. "Hello, Lady Wren."

"You can call me Wren, if you want." She says. _OK Wren, good start._ "Just not Wrenny, _please_! When my stepfather first started dating my mom, he started calling me Wrenny, and it kind of stuck. Then my sister, my mom-even some of my neighbors started calling me it!" _I see it should be no problem getting her to talk…._

"Really?" she nods eagerly. "Tell me about your stepfather."

"Well, his name is Andrew Michaels. He's a waiter. He actually worked at this restaurant called 'Garvadelli's' and then my mom got fired from 'Ophelia Trout'…. or wait…." She takes a moment to think. "No, it was my mom who worked at Garvadelli's and then when she got fired because she got angry at the lack of tips –she does have me and my sister to feed- she got _hired_ and Ophelia Trout, where she met Andrew. He was like, 50 at the time. But that was six years ago. They're actually seven years apart, but that's ok because love has no age limit! He annoyed me _so so_ much but he's starting to grow on me!"

I chuckle awkwardly. "After six years he's 'starting' to grow on you?"

"Oh yes! At first I missed my dad, Jacob Parker, but I don't any more." I open my mouth to ask her why, but she beat me to the punch. "He was really really abusive. He got drunk and then hit me and my mom, but as far as I know he never hit Rose…." She thinks again, ignoring my mouth, which lay ajar. "Yeah, I don't think so. Anyways, she finally left him and then there's Andrew, who's kind to my mother and Rose and me. We're ok." As much as I hated to admit it, I was kind of happy that she shut up for once.

"That's fascinating." I say, trying to wrap up the conversation.

"Thanks! I-"

"It was so nice meeting you, Wren." She smiles.

"Yeah! It was really really nice meeting you too! You know, I was really surprised at how genuine you were! Super great! I can't wait to see you as a ruler! I think that I could make a great ruler. I mean, if you want to marry me, that is. I think that it would be cool. Married to you, I mean. I love talking with you. Ooh! What would we name our kids? Maybe Rosaline, after my sister. We could call her Rose. And if it's a boy I kind of like Trevor or Travis. Something with a T. But not Timothy. There's nothing wrong with that name. I actually know a Timothy and he's very nice, but I don't think we would really want a Timothy for our son. I've always kind of wanted 3 kids, so then for the final kid I think I like Red for a boy or Olivia for a girl." I wait for her to finish speaking. Painfully. "Oh, whatever. If you pick me, I guess we can just pick later!" She smiles giddily as she curtseys quickly and skips away.

 _Finally. A second to breath._

 **FINALLY I'M DONE THAT TOOK FOREVER**

 **See ya'll next chap. I don't really think I have anything new to report, as of now. Bye everyone!**

 **XOXO**

 **-Lily**


	18. Black Sheep

**When you so desperately don't want to write Maxie's character (or Star's or YA's) that you write 21 pages worth of interviews instead.**

Lady Kaitlyn smiled and the craziness of Lady Wren evaporated into thin air.

However, to be honest, I couldn't tell if it was fake or not. Though it was beautiful, just like she was, it didn't quite reach the agate blue of her eyes.

Lady Kaitlyn smelled just as breezy as she looked. She smelled of summer; of sand jasmine, sea spray and mandarin. Her dress was just as breezy. It was made of white cotton, and hung off of her body. It was shapeless, but even so, you could tell how skinny she was immediately. The dress had sleeves that loosely fit close to her elbows. She had three rose gold necklaces of different lengths with different pendants. There were three rings on her right pointer finger, all made of rose gold and one with diamonds. Her dark brown waves fell down her back. She brought a bit of glamor to her "easy-breezy approach" by sporting copper toned eye shadow. No one else would be able to wear it as well.

As I stood up to greet her, I found she was exactly my height: 6'1". _Wow._ I look down and notice MOSTER heels, in a coppery-rose gold color, giving her at least another four inches. But she's tall nevertheless. I try to remember if she's a model or not.

I decide to ask.

"So, Lady Kaitlyn, what do you do for a living?"

"Call me Kaiti, first of all."

"Sure. Call me Carter then." She smirks and looks like she's about to chuckle, then pauses.

"You know, the maids around my mansion always called me Lady Kaitlyn, or Miss Owens, and I never thought anything of it. But now I'm here, in the Selection, and I have a _prince_ calling me Lady. Kind of weird." I chuckle, bemused, and she pauses again, very briefly. "Anyways. You asked about my job?"

"Yes, what do you do?"

"I'm a fashion Vlogger. I catch people up on advancements in style and predict trends for the future, as well as show celebrity fashion and some of my own. I also educate people on how to style outfits: like, which colors go together and what outfits would be better with studs or dangly earrings. Just stuff like that, I guess." She thinks for a second. "I suppose it seems kind of shallow."

"No, not really." I say. But in truth, the way she explained it, it kind of does.

"You're a terrible liar, don't even try with me." I chuckle, earning a smirk from her. "I'm trying to think of a better way to explain it." I sit in silence until she speaks again. "Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening."

I don't have any sort of comeback.

"Coco Chanel. She's one of my biggest inspirations."

"Really?"

"Yes. Along with Emma Watson and Audrey Hepburn."

"Wow." I don't know what else to say. "What other little mannerisms do you have lodged in your brain?"

She laughs. "Too many to list."

"Another time then, I guess." She half-smirks at me.

"Another time."

…

Lady Wednesday strutted over to me with some sort of an indescribable excitement. You might even say she _bounded_ over to me with some sort of an indescribable excitement.

She smoothed out her dress and sat down. She was a lot to take in at once. Tan skin (Hispanic maybe?), dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a full, bright smile. She _radiated_ energy. My own excitement to meet her grew.

"Hello Lady Wednesday, how are you?"

"Great thanks!" She manages with a smile. "Excited to be here."

"As am I." I laugh. "Tell me about yourself! What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a pet sitter. I actually love pets, and feel very passionate about animals." She chuckles. "I've always pictured myself as the old cat lady, but with more pets: all alone, but at least I have my animals!" I laugh, and she gets the encouragement to keep talking, although I can see she's nervous. "While people are away on trips and things, I come to their home to watch their houses and pets and things. Usually it gives me to opportunity to sketch them."

"The pets?"

"Yeah. I really like drawing, but I prefer to do animals and people, versus landscapes and nature."

"Do you draw a lot?"

"Well, a drawing could take any number of days to weeks. But yeah, I'd say a lot! The unfortunate thing is, since I'm not a five, I'm not allowed to sell my drawings. So I just have dozens of papers and canvasses shoved in my closet." I laugh.

"You really can't sell paintings if it's not in your caste?"

"No, I've tried before. I almost got arrested, but after my mom told them that I had no idea, they let me go."

"You almost got _arrested?_ " She starts laughing. "Y'know what? I'm done! This meeting is _over_ I cant be associated with _criminals!_ " She snorts.

"Can't be with a guy who's track record's _too_ squeaky clean." I smile as she gets up and walks away, gleeful and happy as when she came.

…

Immediately you would tell how gorgeous she was. Lady Penelope. Her blonde curls were twisted back in the front and some lay on her shoulders. I recall her report photo. She was distinctly brunette. And also her hair was strait. I guessed that I'd hear about it from Tierney eventually. She was always the one who loved those gossip magazines that kept up with that type of stuff.

Lady Penelope wore a brown-blush colored tulle dress with a full skirt that swished as she walked. It was kind of entertaining to watch, actually. She had rose gold-black heels and a black belt on her dress. I noticed one rose gold ring on her right middle finger. Her makeup was neutral and lips which matched her dress. Her blue eyes gleamed and I smiled back at her.

"Hello, Lady Penelope."

"Call me Penny." She curtseys and sits down.

"Call me Carter." She beams. "Penny… Foster, is that right? Does that make you a foster child?"

"Yes, actually! I live with my foster family-the Scotts." She smiles wistfully, thinking about her family.

"Tell me about them. The Scotts."

She smiles again. "Well, there's only three of them. Jim, Lori, and Lacey. Jim is my foster father. He's a surgeon, and not home all that often. He's actually been absent most of the seven years I've spent with them… which is sad because I think if he took the time to know me he'd like me. But it's not even just me! He's never there for Lori _or_ Lacey. Lori's my foster mother. She almost feels like my real one, though." She smiles down at her lap. Then frowns. I'm about to ask what's wrong, but she continues talking, as if nothing's wrong. "She's always done her best to make me feel welcome, and I couldn't be more thankful for her." Her smile is regained. "Lacey's my foster sister, and normally my best friend."

"Normally?"

"Yeah…. she was furious that I was Selected. She was the one who convinced me to enter, and she felt like I was stealing something from her. I feel horrible. It's like the Selection was a tangible object that I just….. sort of _took_ from her." She looks off to the side, as if she's figuring out the logistics of her own words. I don't really know what to say. Penny never said that she didn't want to be here, but the fact that she had to be _convinced_ tells me that at the very least she didn't want to at first. I cant help but wonder if she wants to be here or not. I really liked her.

She snaps out of her daze. "Oops! Sorry, lost in thought!" I chuckle, and she smiles.

"It was nice to meet you, Penny."

She grins, and walks away.

…

Lady Ainsley's brown eyes gleamed. She really was a stunning girl, with her chestnut hair curled slightly and partly crown braided on the top of her hair, like a halo. She was short and dainty, no more than 5'6" in three inch heels. Her hips swayed a little bit, and her navy chiffon dress swished along with her. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and a crisscross bodice. She had three rings on her right middle finger: all with diamonds and gold. A vintage gold locket hung around her neck.

"Lady Ainsley, is there anyone in your locket?"

She chuckles. "No, actually." She opens it up, to show two empty sides of her necklace. "There will be one day though, I can feel it." I can't help but smile. "And also, call me Ainsley."

"Call me Carter." She smiles.

"Ok."

"So Ainsley, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a conversationalist."

"Wait-huh?" I'm instantly confused. "I've never heard of a… conversationalist… as a profession…"

"Wait- _did I say conversationalist_? Shoot! No, I meant I'm a novelist." She lightly smacks her forehead. "I was thinking about how nervous I was. I'm normally a _horrible_ conversationalist, and truth be told I could barely even hear your question because I was paying too much attention to making my responses good, and working in stuff that I could say, and… oh God I'm rambling aren't I?" I can't help but burst out laughing. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm afraid." I manage. She crosses her arms and gives me a "harrumph"

"I told you I was a horrible conversationalist. Usually it kind of causes people to not approach me anymore. Sometimes I squeeze a friend out of that, though."

"Well, Ainsley, I find it quite charming." She blushes and her face falls flat. She fiddles with a shiny chocolate strand. "Anyways, novelist?"

She looks immediately grateful for the change of topic. I see that the flirting made her at least a little bit uncomfortable, and make a mental note not to anymore.

"Yep! I love writing, and ideas just completely randomly pop into my head! It's fun though, because I fall in love with my characters and I get obsessed with plot lines and when I'm in the zone I completely can't be bothered. Plus, I absolutely love the satisfaction of finishing a book!"

"How many have you written so far?" I ask her.

"Only two. They're not part of a series or anything, though. The first one is _Questions From a Fan_ , which has a plot completely different than how it sounds. The second is _the Sound of Silence_ , which has no connotation I guess. What usually winds up happening is I get overexcited about a plot, and then less than a month later I grow bored with it. It's actually a huge problem." I chuckle. "You laugh, but this is what I do for a living." She scolds, but I can see the smile on her face and watch her as she struggles not to laugh.

"Tell me about the books?" She beams.

"Look them up yourself, Carter. To be honest, I'm terrible at summarizing… by an author's standards, anyways." I grin.

"Excited to." We get up and she curtseys, and I watch her as she walks away.

…

Lady Avalon Grey oozed femininity and sugar. She smelled as sweet as airy and sweet as cotton candy, with fruity notes of strawberry and raspberry, laced with caramel swirls and hints of nutty almond sweetened with something like vanilla extract. Intoxicating.

Her dress matched her floaty, cotton candy theme. Her dress was baby pink and sleeveless, with silk gazar. It featured a high round neck with a ruffled caplet overlay that cascades down the sleeves, and a layered skirt that falls above the knee. She had strappy white heels, and a diamond cuff bracelet. Peaking from behind rows of honey blonde curls, intricately woven back in the very front, you could see drop diamond earrings. Her skin was pale as porcelain and a tiny hint of a blush warmed her face.

She curtseyed daintily, as if too quick of a movement would break her.

"Good morning, Lady Avalon."

"Same to you, Prince Carter." I smile warmly, clearly seeing that she's trying too hard to be perfect. I try to see if my smile will get her to open up a bit and relax, but it doesn't seem to.

"So, Lady Avalon, tell me about your life at home. What's your family like?" She visibly freezes up.

"My….. family?"

I chuckle. "Yes?"

"Oh… umm….." Her face flushes and I can see the panic in her round green eyes. "They're…. they're alright. They have good intentions. They're nice." And that's all the information she gave. I frown, and cock my head to the side. _Good intentions? Nice? Is that all?_ I try in vain to coax her out of her shyness, by asking questions that seemed to work well on the other girls, but I can see the trouble she has with opening up.

I'm about to dismiss her, when I see her start to cry.

"Lady Avalon, are you alright?" Instantly I know that she didn't want to lose, to go home. She was here to win, I could imagine. I couldn't imagine it being for the crown, seeing how nervous she got around me, who has one. But perhaps I was a childhood celebrity crush or something.

"Please," I can see the pleading in her eyes, bright and shining. Glossed with the beginnings of tears. "Please don't eliminate me." I sigh.

"Lady Avalon, I cant just-"

"Please." She tries again. "I cant go home, there's something waiting for me at home I cant-" She looses herself and lets out one mangled sob, then looks around, embarrassed. Like she doesn't want to be seen with this fit anymore than I do. "You don't have to love me. You don't have to marry me or speak to me on almost any occasion. Just please." I see the pleading again. "My home isn't safe. I need to be away from there, or I could be gravely hurt." I can see her panic, her fear.

"Who would hurt you?"

She searches my face, wondering if she can tell me. "I-cant. You have to trust me. Please. There's no harm in keeping one more girl, I _need_ to be here. It's not safe _please!_ "

"Ok, ok. Calm down, Lady Avalon. You can stay." She lets out a sigh. Then, in an attempt to create composure, strides away. Leaving me speechless.

…

"Hello, Lady Catherine." She gives me a lazy semi-smile that maybe was meant to be alluring, but made her look like she didn't care to be here. Her deep green eyes were less than excited, and she lazily blew black side bangs from her forehead. The rest of her ebony hair was loosely curled and left touching her shoulders. Her style was clearly simple: with a green chiffon strapless dress, black and diamond bangles, and onyx studs. She looked nice enough, but not as radiant as some of the other girls.

She gives no response. There was only that one small smirk thing that was already mentioned above.

"How have you enjoyed the Selection so far?" I ask her, trying to get her talking.

She smirks. "It's been an experience," She giggles, while keeping with that same half smirk. I cant tell if she's trying to be sexy or not. "Good, mainly. I liked my makeover, where they cut my hair and gave me my bangs and let me feel like a princess. Plus, I like my maids. I can see us as friends, and they're somewhat talented. If I wind up winning, I'm definitely keeping them." She winks at me.

"Somewhat?" I disregard the suggestion.

"Well, I hate bracelets, and here they are." She sticks out her right arm and her black and diamond bangles jangle around noisily. With the silence, and usually pleasing voices, the jingling makes me have a headache. This is a lot of social interaction with future-wife-candidates.

I chuckle, painfully, hoping to dismiss the conversation quickly.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of the Selection, Lady Catherine." She winks, and curtseys, trying in vain to give me a view down her dress. Then, hips swaying, she struts away. Giving me only a moment of rest.

…

You could immediately tell that Lady Ryseline White wasn't like the others. You'd recognize her easily, with her political ties and brightly colored hair, currently curled and braided back into an updo. Her dress was as whimsical as her hair, mainly white, with a black circular halter neckline, a fitted bodice, and a flare skirt. Though it's main color was off-white, it was covered in magenta, violet, and blue flowers. She has rhinestone heeled sandals, shorter than I'd seen most of the other girls wear. She was still incredibly tall, however, and there was no doubt that she had to wear short heels because of her height. She had diamond dangly earrings peeking out of her colorful updo, and I caught a glance at a diamond bracelet as she strode over to me.

Her curtsey seemed unnatural, and I could tell she was used to bowing. Immediately you could see that she wasn't trained to be a "lady". She was trained to be powerful.

"Good morning, Lady Ryseline."

"Riley will be fine." She waves her hand as she smooth's her skirt and sits down. "And same to you." She offers a warm smile.

I study her face for a second, not exactly sure where to start. She gets a confused look, and looks behind her to make sure I'm not looking at something else. I chuckle, and she moves a nonexistent flyaway hair behind her ear. She looks remarkably familiar, but I'm not sure from where. I decide to drop it.

"So, Riley, you're one of the two girls in the Selection with colorful hair. Is there a reason you died it in the first place?"

"Three, actually." I cock my head to the side. "Spencer died her hair in the makeover, now it's silver."

"Silver?" _Why would anybody choose the color silver?_

She turns over her shoulder and we look over at Lady Spencer. Dressed in a pink floral dress, with a plunging neckline that goes down to the belt, I find it hard not to stare. Riley's right, her once ebony curls are in silver waves falling to her shoulders.

"Originality is key." She says plainly. "If you're not a black sheep, everyone blurs together."

"You really think so?" She shrugs.

"I died mine in the whole 'self discovery' quest all teens go on, when I was around the age of 14. It became my signature color, and I don't really know if I can think of an actual _reason_ to change it, you know?" I smile at her. _I_ for one really like her originality. I admire that she went to actual lengths to _choose_ who she wanted to be. Not all of us get that option.

"I like your hair. It defines who you are." She frowns.

"No, that's the point I'm trying to prove with my hair." She corrects. "That what I look like doesn't dictate who I am at all. That I can be anyone that I want." I can't help but blush a little bit out of embarrassment. It's not often I get told off, even for something this small.

"Sorry." I say sheepishly.

"Don't apologize, just that's the point I'm trying to make." She defends.

"I get that." I tell her. "And I think that's really cool." She offers me a shy smile. I make sure to rap up the conversation quickly and leave us in a good place. I suppose I need more originality in my life.

…

Lady Arielle Jacques is no less than professionalism in a person.

Though her dress was unbelievably curve hugging (I had seen Blair wearing dresses like those before, and she called them bodycons), it also had a light blue overlay on the top with pastel flowers. She didn't look like a slut, like Blair sometimes did. Maybe because of the pastels. Like Riley, I could see that she had to wear short heels because she was so tall. Her left pointer finger held a huge blue topaz ring, and her nails were painted a nice blue to match the top of her dress. I could see she had a double piercing, because she had one light pink druzy stone stud, and dangly diamonds in both ears. Her dark hair was pulled to the right side of her face, and it was grouped together in a low bun. She looked sexy, alluring, and classy all at the same time. I had to applaud her efforts. At the same time, however, she legitimately _intimidated_ me. I found myself a bit scared, if even just by her presence.

"Lady Arielle, tell me about your family." I hope to get the conversation going immediately.

"Well, my mom's a retired supermodel, my dad's the governor of Midston, my older sister Grace is a talk show host, and my twin brother is a politician. You?" I feel a bit of surprise when she turns the question to me, but I take it as a good thing. She must be interested, right?

"Not much to report. You probably know all about them."

"Really? They have to be different. At least a little. Don't they always have to put on some sort of front for the _Report_?" I try to think. "I know my family does. When you're in the spotlight, you're always at least a little fake."

I evaluate. "I guess so."

She giggles. "Think about them, ok? Can you tell me about them later?" Ah. A promise for me not to eliminate her.

"Sure." She beams, and struts away.

…

I find it striking how similar Lady Finnly looks to Ainsley. They have the same brown hair, face shape, freckles, and naturally dark red lips. The difference was that Ainsley's hair was longer, she was paler, and her eyes were an entirely different color. Plus, you could see the major difference in their styles.

Lady Finnly oozed childhood immaturity/innocence/youth. Her dress was strapless, with a pale pink lace bodice, and a white flare skirt with a black polka dot tulle overlay. Her curls were swept partly over her shoulder and partly layed down her back, and were tied together with a black ribbon head band tied into a bow on the side of her head. She wore cream and black oxfords that clacked as if she was about to do a tap routine, and a diamond bracelet with two silver and diamond arrow necklaces. She almost reminded me of a young Courtney, how her stylist always made sure to emphasize her youth and dressed her in all frills and poufy dresses until she got new maids. I can't help but wonder if Lady Finnly has the maids Courtney once had.

"Lady Finnly, what do you do for a living?"

She gives me a giggle and blushes. I resist the urge not to roll my eyes. "I'm a pet breeder and trainer."

"Oh, do you like animals?"

She giggles again, and hides her smile behind a black and white manicured hand. "Yep."

"What's your favorite type?"

"Dogs, probably." She blushes and giggles, looking down at her hands.

"Do you have any pets of your own?"

Another giggle, another shy smile. "A Siberian Husky named Cooper."

"Sounds nice." She giggles yet again. "Well, it was very nice to meet you, Lady Finnly." She giggles again as she gets up. Then Little Miss Giggles goes away.

…

I knew full well about Lady Cosette and her Lukemia. I had to be sat down and was specifically told about her illness, how she was diagnosed two years ago on Thanksgiving, how she was here in the first place via Make a Wish Foundation. I was told specifically that I was required to keep her until I was deciding the Elite. The Elite were the important ones, the ones who I was deciding whether or not I would be spending the rest of my life with them. I didn't have to keep Lady Cosette at that point if I felt no connection to her. But, as I figured, there was no point in not _trying_ for a connection. Her smile said the same.

A pale pink dress practically _fell_ off of her willowy figure, with a lace bodice and capped sleeves, a satin belt, and a chiffon skirt that went to her knees. Pink and white dangly earrings came from behind pale blonde hair braided back into a low bun. Her makeup was scarce, and pale as her porcelain face. Everything was dainty and breakable about her. Like she was in need of a protector.

She offers me a meager smile, which I return.

"Good morning, Lady Cosette."

"Good morning Prince Carter!" I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"What do you like to do?" I ask her, trying to get the conversation going. She smiles before speaking.

"Well, for one, I like to garden."

"Garden?" 

"Yep! I like the idea of leaving behind something permanent. That after we're all gone, they'll still be there living and thriving and bringing beauty to the world over and over again."

"Do you only plant flowers?"

"No, also trees. I have one oak tree that I planted in my yard years and years ago, and now it's over double my height. I like seeing how the things I grow and prosper, you know? Like, look at this thing that I cared for, look how it thrives by itself and will grow into something beautiful!" She waves her hands up in the air, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. I'm immediately taken by how she can turn a simple task like gardening into something beautiful and deep. I don't know many who can do that. "It's the same way with kids." She continues. "I'm an assistant elementary school teacher at the school I went to when I was younger, back in St. George. I've always loved kids a lot, and they're _adorable_ to be around! I like seeing how they grow throughout the year, and how I _helped_ them to grow and stuff." I smile at her.

"That's really sweet, Lady Cosette." I tell her with a smile.

"Awwww thanks!" She exclaims.

"Well, it was really nice to meet you!"

"Same!" She bounds away, leaving me smiling.

…

Lady Sonia radiated _warmth._ Something I hadn't seen often. I witnessed it in a lot of girls who talked about their family's and traditions, and who I could make smile or laugh. But even without speaking a word to her, Lady Sonia made me feel _warm._ She smelled of honey and nutmeg and other spices, and her tan skin and unusual bright blue eyes both glowed. I'd guess that she was Saudi Arabian or Pakistani. Her dark brown hair hung down her back in loose curls. She had on a shapeless light pink cotton dress with long sleeves and a skirt that went down to almost her knees. She had a bib diamond and gold necklace on with diamond studs. She had an unusual choice of shoe in comparison to the rest of the girls: light brown, with a wooden heel.

"Hello Lady Sonia, tell me about your life at home."

"Call me Sona." She said.

"Alright then, call me Carter." She smiles.

"Anyways, life at home?" I nod encouragingly. "I'm one of nine children, first off." My jaw drops, and she smiles faintly, but doesn't laugh. "I'm the second oldest. My older brother is 24, Ahmed. He's usually the prankster, but he's serious when it's important. He's married to a woman named Maryam, and her presence usually calms my brother and gets him to stop fooling around. I think my parents were _especially_ grateful of her for that reason." We share a chuckle. "Next is my younger sister. She's 16: Nimra. She entered the Selection because her friends were as well. She's quite the social butterfly and is always on her phone talking about her friends. After her is Jafar, age 12, who's normally very quiet, but I usually connect with him the best and we're very close. Then come the twins, both seven: Rahat and Kabir. Like our oldest brother, they're growing up to be little trouble makers." She smiles at their memory, and almost looks like she's about to laugh. Finally, there's the triplets: Minha, Ashad, and Meha. They're only three, but surprisingly calm for such a young age. After their terrible twos, it was all smooth sailing."

"How do your parents do with so many kids?" I only have a sister. I try to picture myself with half of my extended family of cousins as _siblings_ and find it absolutely impossible.

"Well, the older kids are expected to grow up quicker to help take care of the others. This is fine, though, It makes for a good relationship with my family." She smiles. But then it quickly disappears. "My mom works the hardest out of my family. In the past decade or so, my father was diagnosed with an incurable lung disease. The doctors say he has only a year left to live. He's actually one of the family member's I'm closest with, and I know I'm going to miss him a lot when he's gone." I frown. The tone of the conversation changed in only an instant.

I try to backtrack. "I'm so sorry."

She gives me a sad smile, and I know that I need to wrap up the interview quickly. "There's nothing to do, really."

I return it. "I suppose not." I kiss her hand. "Well, it was great to talk to you, Sona."

"And same with you." It breaks my heart to watch her walk away from her seat, tears welling in her eyes out of the room to simply compose herself.

…

Lady Jane offers me a wide smile, and I feel a similar warmness as with Sona. She smelled much sweeter, almost like a sugar cookie, combining rich, velvety vanilla, creamy butterscotch, and sugar cane. Simply heavenly. She wore an off white dress with a chiffon overlay down to her knees. It was embroidered with royal blue flowers and had cap sleeves and a cinched waist. Her heels were royal blue, and she had a sapphire ring and studs. Her hair was left thick and natural: her black curls framing her face.

"Lady Jane, if you could be anything besides your current occupation, what would you be?"

"That's an easy question." She chuckles. "I'm a photojournalist currently. This means that I take pictures for my local newspaper, which is an awfully unfortunate occupation because no one even reads it…" I laugh. "I'm _absolutely_ serious right now. It's the most terrible newspaper I think I've ever read." She rubs her temples. "I mean, the stories are boring, the writing is sub par…. Ugh it's really frustrating, because instead of covering articles about important things, like the homeless population of Denbeigh-some of their stories are _amazing_ \- or the working class sevens and sixes and their mistreatment from their upper caste bosses, we're covering things like Pre-Selected galas held by the wealthy families. That was the story I was photographing for the day I entered the Selection. Isn't that awful? Instead of drawing attention to the worst aspects of society that have no light and need lots of help, we're letting people suffer with millionaires in the paper. What do _they_ need any more publicity for?" I'm speechless. She shakes her head. "Off topic, sorry. That just makes me angrier than I should be. Anyways, if I could be anything that wasn't a photojournalist, I'd want to be a writer. Specifically an investigative journalist. I have so many ideas for hard hitting pieces that I have no resources- or even a chance- to write! I'd much prefer for photography to be my hobby, and _journalism_ to be my profession. Not vise versa."

"Yeah, I understand that I guess." I tell her. I search for a way to prove like I'm engaged in the conversation, but I cant think of a way. There's no rebuttal to that, she's completely right.

Not wanting it to become awkward, I quickly dismiss her and the next girl comes in.

…

Lady Albany, for whatever reason, immediately seemed so much more casual than the rest of the girls. Maybe it was in the hairstyle. It had a big bump in the very front, and was pulled into a messy auburn bun at the back of her head. It was hard to tell if it had been hard to do or not. She was dressed completely normally, with a strapless royal blue skater dress, dangle blue and gold earrings, and hold heels, but she seemed much more relaxed and cooler willed than the other girls.

"Lady Albany," I greet. "I actually _have_ to know: how do you actually pronounce your last name?" She laughs, and I chuckle as well.

"Androvochisven." She says quickly. She must hear it every day, for someone like me, that's all too hard.

I smile at her, amused. "Could you repeat?"

"Androvochisven?" She says just a tiny bit slower. I signal for he to say it again, and she laughs again. "Ann-droh-voh-ch-iz-vin"

"Androvo…chevsin?"

She chuckles again. "Close." I snap my fingers. "Here, try it with me. Ann"

"Ann"

"Droh"

"Droh"

"Voh"

"Ch"

"Ch"

"Iz"

"Iz"

"Vin."

"Vin."

"Androvochisven!"

"Andorvchecken!" She face palms, although I see the smile written on her face.

"Now you just have to be making that up, you can pronounce it."

"Cant, actually."

"Fine. One more time?" She walks me through each syllable.

"Androvochisven?" She squeals and claps her hands. "Did I get it?"

"Yep! _Finally_!" She mimes wiping away sweat from her forehead. "Jeez, Your Highness, it's not that hard!" She folds her arms across her chest.

"You can just call me Carter, if you would like to. I know how 'Your Highness' can get in the way of things." She chuckles.

"Then you can call me Albany too!"

"Oh, and Albany, by the way, you have to pronounce your name every day. For others, it might not be so easy." I tap my temple and she rolls her eyes. "Well, Miss Androvochisven, it was nice to meet you."

She giggles. "And, Mister Schreave, it was nice to meet you too."

…

I'm taken quite aback as Lady Brynlee-the third and final eight in my Selection- strides over to me. For one, she's wearing a long black evening gown, with a simple cut and a plunging neckline. I see black painted toes coming out of black and gold heels, and an assortment of heavy gold jewelry. I internally wonder if she knew that this would be a _casual_ interview or not. Her teal hair hung in curls down her back.

"Lady Brynlee, tell me about your choice of dress." I start with, not quite sure where to start with, well, _anything_ about her.

She scoffs, which earns a face from me. "What? Is this a red carpet interview? Are you going to ask for my dieting secrets as well?" She spits. "It's called not eating because you're too poor." I stop in my tracks. "Speechless, are you? No comeback to save the face of your _precious_ monarchy?" Again, I have nothing to say, but I can physically _feel_ anger clouding my own vision. "That's what I thought." She crosses her arms and relaxes her posture against the back of her chair.

"Excuse me-"I hold my hand up, signaling her to stop. "But have I done something to _upset_ you?"

"Try making me an eight."

"How did _I_ play a part in your caste?" I ask her, now upset, on the verge of yelling. "I'm _sorry_ that you're an eight, but how is that _my_ fault?"

"My parents. They got executed because of theft and fraud. They were publicly, _publicly_ executed for their crimes, and you and your precious family demoted me to an eight."

"Your parents were _dead_ , you would have been an eight anyway! If you were an orphan?"

She rolls her eyes, but she knows that I'm right.

I dismiss her rather hurriedly, and she stalks off. I'm not upset in the least to see her go.

…

Somehow, Lady Celaena Cork combined the grace of Lady Kalissa and the friendliness in Ainsley's cute smile. Her ash blonde hair was put into a very intricate updo, with little pearl earrings in her ears. She looked poised in her pale blue strapless chiffon dress, which completely hugged her rib cage, with the skirt at different lengths and a crisscross bodice. She wore half-inch white shoes, and several silver and pearl bracelets. She looked stunning.

"Lady Celaena, tell me about your family."

"Would it be ok if you just called me Callie?" She asks.

"Callie?" I ask her. "Where does that come from?"

"Well, my middle name is Calliope, so I suppose it comes from that." She clarifies. "People actually call me _lots_ of things, like Laena, Li, and Cece. The Cece comes from my initials, which are all C."

"Kind of like Albany."

"What?"

"Lady Albany Androvochisven, have you met her yet?"

"No, I haven't had the pleasure. So far I've met Ladies Kalissa, Penelope, Ainsley, and Laney, on two occasions actually. That was my plane ride group." She recounts. "Lady Albany's from Calgary, is that right?"

"I don't know, I think so though." She smiles. "Anyways, Albany has a triple A name. It kind of reminds me of you, how you have a triple C name." She blushes.

"Whelp, that's true." I smirk, and chuckle. "Wait, you asked about my family?"

"That's right."

"Well, I'm one of only two children. My parents work at our wine shop, which isn't well known or anything, but then again I come from a small town. I have one younger sister named Belle. Arabella, actually, but we call her Belle. She's 15, so she was too young to enter the Selection." She chuckles.

"Tell me about your sister." I say, trying to get her to elaborate.

"Belle? She'll always be a princess to me. She's like a complete mix of all of the Disney Princesses: the hardworking nature of Cinderella, the resourcefulness of Rapunzel, the intelligence of Belle, and the beauty of Aurora." She smiles.

"She sounds wonderful." Callie smiles.

"She is." I leave her with a smile.

…

Before I saw the girl in real life, I have to admit that I had been a bit intimidated by Lady Laney Watson. A female rights activist and public speaker, Lady Laney seemed to have no problem standing up for what she believed in. It was hard to tell whether or not she would start telling me off, like Brynlee did.

But as soon as she walked up to me, every worry I had about her instantly disappeared. Her chocolate hair was left down her back, and part of it was fishtail braided. Her matching brown eyes were surprisingly warm and inviting, and they lit up as she smiled at me. She wore a robins egg blue mini dress made of chiffon, with a cinched waist and a halter neckline. She had flat gem sandals, because she seemed naturally tall, and pretty, not to mention simple, jewelry. Something about her was so simplistic and yet so pretty all at the same time. I was completely taken by her.

"Hello, Lady Laney."

"And hello to you too, Prince Carter." She greets with a smile. Her teeth are oddly perfect: a blinding shade of white.

"Tell me about yourself." I start.

"Well, I'm one of two girls. I live in Northern Lakedon. Me and my family have this _gorgeous_ house on the water: grey exterior, with brass finishing's _everywhere_ and a million crystals on the chandeliers…" She gets lost in an almost dreamy state.

I chuckle. "What's so funny?" She asks.

"Well, I live in a _palace_ and I don't think I'd talk about it as fondly as you talk about your house!"

"I just miss it a bit, that's all. I haven't been there in almost a full year- planning my own women's revolution takes me all too far away from home." She chuckles sadly.

"I'd actually like to speak to you about that, said revolution. But I also think that's a later conversation." She smiles wide.

"Another time then." She curtseys, and strides away.

…

Lady Eponine Newton struck me as the type of person who would do anything to get what she wanted. I don't even know why this occurred to me, exactly, but that's the exact thing I was thinking about as she sat down in front of me.

She was physically unable to curtsey; seeing she was wearing a skintight black bodycons with dark angular silver designs. The dress was completely backless, and you could easily tell because her hair was loosely in an updo, with dark silver and diamond chandelier earrings coming out of them. She wore no other jewelry, but had on _tall_ black heels, that had to give her at least four inches, bringing her to exactly my height. Truly, she was a sight to behold.

She didn't offer me a smile, like most of the other girls had. It was easy to see that smiles from her were things to earn, and I quite intended to earn them.

"Lady Eponine, what do you do for a living?" I ask her.

"I'm an equestrian trick rider." She says with finality.

I chuckle, and she gives me a look that asks me why I'm laughing, so I shut up. "What do you do? I mean, as a trick rider?"

"I travel with the _Extravagant Silence_ circus. I'm one of the main acts there, so the pay is good. As a trick rider, I do horse tricks. Pretty self explanatory, actually." She sasses.

"Do you have any horses of your own?"

"Well, I kind of call them my own, but they technically belong to the circus. But I actually have three: A young, feisty black gelding called Newton, older white mare named Lace, and a gray gelding who I'm still training. I call him Race."

I chuckle. "Your black gelding-Newton-is that after yourself?"

She thinks for a second, then chuckles-only for a fraction of a second- looking sideways. "I guess so." I laugh.

"And what are your other horses named after? Lace and Race, you said?"

"Well, Lace has always reminded me of a dog-just with her personality. Despite her old age, she's always been loyal and jumpy and cant stand to be cooped up, and I used to know someone with a dog named Lace. I liked that for her." She recalls. "Race is actually after a dear friend of mine. He-" She pauses. "Actually, I don't really want to talk about him."

"Oh? Did something happen between you?"

"I'd _prefer_ not to _talk_ about it." She snaps.

"Fair enough." I say slowly, trying to get the fire out of her sterling eyes. "It was nice to meet you, Lady Eponine." She nods once and stalks away. My eyes don't leave her for a second.

…

Right off the bat, Lady Spencer Davis…. confused me. She was dressed with the girliness of Lady Kalissa, in an off white chiffon-like mini dress, covered in pink flowers, and the neckline of Brynlee's plunging black gown. Lady Spencer had pale _pink_ heels, with diamond studs in the shape of flowers and a somewhat matching headband, holding back the front part of her grey waves. You could see that her roots were unmistakably black, and I recalled how Riley had said she died it in the makeover. Something about a black sheep. Her face, flawless and beautiful, showed no smile, and no emotion at all.

"Lady Spencer," I begin, "If you could have an occupation-other than the one you already have-what would you be?"

She pretends to think for a second, but I can tell that she already knows her answer.

"An actress." She decides. I must give her a face, for whatever reason, because she goes, "What? Were you expecting me to say 'prostitute' or something?" She crosses her arms, and her boobs… actually _pop_ up. I blush furiously, and then curse myself for blushing and try to calm the heat of my face.

"Ummm…. no." She chuckles.

"I mean, I do have _slightly_ more pride than that." I smile.

"Why would you be an actress?" I ask her, bringing the conversation back to the point.

"I've always loved that type of glamorous lifestyle, you know? The fancy parties, and couture, and socialites, and people looking up to you all of the time." I don't make a mention of her caste. If I can remember correctly, it's only five.

I chuckle. "I suppose the Selection is right up your alley, then?"

She smiles coyly. "There's no place I'd rather be." I smile at her, and feel the very tops of my ears get red. I dismiss her, and the final girl comes in.

…

Lady Clementine seemed like the very last girl who would wear a skintight dress, and yet, here she was. She was dressed in a purple Ombre bodycon, with no straps to hold it up, completely hugging her skin. And the thing was, she seemed completely _at home_ with it, no traces of uncomfort anywhere on her smiling face. There was no way this was something her maids _forced_ her into, this would only be something she requested, or thought was normal attire that she was quite used to. I recalled her profession, as an acrobat, and wondered how they connected. Her strawberry blonde hair was up in a high bun, with baby hairs falling in her face. She had diamond chandelier earrings and a diamond bracelet around her left wrist. She had heavy silver eye shadow, but sported it proudly. Smiles at me, and I offer her my trademark smirk.

I open my mouth to speak as she sits down, but instead, my stomach grumbles. She starts laughing hysterically. "I'm starving too, I get it."

I smile at her. "Yeah, sorry about that…"

"No, it's ok! I'm genuinely hungry too, I could eat a whole horse!" She giggles. "Oh… or… probably not a horse. That would be disgusting… Like, I'm not a vegetarian or anything, but I think eating an actual _horse_ would just taste bad."

"Likely." I chuckle. "Got to eat your meats, you know? Can't stay this buff without 'em." I flex for her, and she laughs with me, but I see her smile momentarily waver. "What are your favorite foods?"

"Hmmm….. Well, I love cake! And also strawberry milkshakes!"

"What's your favorite type of cake?" I ask her.

She thinks for a second. "Well, my grandmother always made me the most _delicious_ lemon vanilla cake ever year on my birthday. I think that's my favorite." I smile at her, and my stomach instinctively grumbles again.

She laughs. "I think I'm going to go now. Gotta eat some time!" I chuckle, and kiss her hand.

"Another time, Lady Clementine." She blushes, and I'm left finally alone.

 **GUYS GUYS GUYS I DID IT! That was 19 fricking POVs in one chapter I hope to hell you actually read all of them. LEAVE A REVIEW TO TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT!**

 **SHOUTOUT to jenhen48's FREAKING AMAZING SYOC! She's all full up (I legit have 1/7 of her forms, sorry guys, I couldn't help myself!), but I'm absolutely serious when I say her story is worth reading anyway! VOTE FOR MY CHARACTERS!**

 **ALSO, DGS STILL HAS A BAJILLION SPOTS OPEN, SUBMIT TO HER!**

 **The next chapter will be the elimination! GET EXCITED GUYS!**

 **Who was your favorite? Who was your least favorite? Who do you want eliminated (I've already picked, just saying)?**

 **Do you have any songs to recommend me because that would be great.**

 **-Lils**


	19. Target

**WHATS** _ **THIS?**_ **AN UPDATE** _ **NOT**_ **TWENTY DAYS AFTER THE FIRST ONE? That's right, my fellow fangirls. Read on.**

 **Kaitlyn Owens**

I wasn't sure what the standard reaction was to not getting eliminated, but the only thing I could feel was pure relief. Actually, how happy I was _not_ to be eliminated scared me. The Selection wasn't something I was supposed to care about.

Everything kind of happened in a blur. Twenty-eight of us shuffled into a grand dining room with cream and rose color palate that was in _dire_ need of some sort of a balancing color (maybe lapis, maybe copper, maybe pewter), and seven stayed behind for a quick "chat" with Carter. One guess as to the fate of those girls. I didn't bother to look for any familiar faces among the eliminated, mainly because I didn't care.

Along the Victorian Era rose lace tablecloth, amongst the gold bone china plates and golden utensil sets, sat a four inch folded place card, with cursive words scrawled against the cream oak tag. It only took me a moment to realize that they were name placement cards. I did a quick search for mine, and found it close to the back end of the left table. Trying to make sure no one saw, I switched it with _"Lady Avangeline Astor"_ so I could be across from Eponine, who was the only girl I really planned on befriending in this contest, nearer to the middle-front of the table. Eponine seemed reserved and kinda bitchy, sure, but I wasn't exactly good at getting real _chummy_ with competition anyway. It's an Owens thing. _You can only make allies; friends are fake promises and too much faith_. May as well be our family mantra.

No one notices my quick switch, seeing as I was the first in the room, and the people who filed in after me were either too concerned with finding their own cards or didn't really care that I had switched the placement of mine. My heart rate pounds in a uniform _thump_ , and every 5 heavy beats, a new girl would walk into the room and hurriedly try to locate her name tag, in a rush to sit down and have a second to compose herself before the royals came in. My heart was going surprisingly quicker than usual. I hadn't had a drink anytime in the past week, and I hadn't been clubbing with Lexi and Blake since it was announced that I was Selected. I inwardly groan and wonder why I wasn't smart enough to bring a flash to slip into my coffee or something.

As girls shuffle in (I pass time by noting the skill of each of the maids based on their stitching. Arizona, for example, was wearing an orange-salmon muslin mini dress with elementary level stitching and simple pleats, though Blanca had pale pink silken polyester, with thick black lace that seemed with flawless craft. Coincidence? I think not), the noise level of the dining room slowly grows. Near me, Waverly, Riley, Ainsley, Wednesday, and Blanca have already sat down. Waverly and Ainsley were chatting incessantly, and Wednesday looked at them, as if debating whether she would save herself the humiliation by not butting into the conversation. Riley looked around, lazily and yet critically at the same time. As if she's trying to absorb everything, detail by detail. Blanca looks bored, and busies herself by playing with her beach blonde curls. When Eponine finally struts in, with an air as if she owns the entire palace herself, I almost let out a sigh. I was still excited to become better acquainted with my newly decided ally.

"And how did _your_ interview go?" I ask her, with a half chuckle.

Her sterling eyes glint mischievously, and she gives me a half smirk. "Better than yours, of course."

"Oh, of course." I sarcastically agree. "Thank god you didn't seem deep and insightful with quotes from your inspirations-I couldn't even _imagine_ the consequences! It's a surprise he kept me in the first place!" I mock exclaim.

"Well, I know _I_ would have eliminated you." She rolls her eyes, but I see just a tiny ghost of a struggle not to smile.

"Thank God _one_ of you is sane." She chuckles, and I grin triumphantly. "What did you guys talk about?"

"My job, mostly."

"Wait-he asked you what you did for a living too?"

"Yeah, guys like him tend to be unoriginal and always take the easy way. Trust me, I'd know." She rolls her eyes, and the sparkle is completely vanished. It was here so briefly, I start to wonder if it was the fluorescent lights that cast the illusion in the first place.

"Ouch. Is there a certain guy we're missing at home?" I tease with a smile.

"Certainly not one we're _missing_." She crosses her arms and mimics my tone. I decide not to push her.

Slowly, and then all at once, every ounce of chattering ceases, and all around me I hear breaths hitch.

The Royals.

 **Kinsley Luca**

I never really imagined I'd see them all in person so soon. Sure, we had interviews with Carter or whatever, but…. I kind of thought that would be it.

Nope. They were all here.

King Lucas smiled warmly and told us to sit back down. They make their way to a front table, parallel to the two of the Selected, and a series of maids and butlers swarm into the grand dining room, carrying platter upon platter for us to choose from.

I nearly have a panic attack when a skinny blonde with wide set green eyes looks down upon me and offers me bacon.

"Yes please." She takes a pair of gold tongs and gives me one strip. I look at her sideways, not sure whether or not I should ask for more. I'm absolutely famished. She notices my hesitation and chuckles.

"You can have more, Lady Kinsley. This is probably, like, your first real meal in weeks-maybe in years. Mine was three days ago."

My interest piques. "Are you an eight too?" I ask, as she tongs more bacon onto my plate.

"Former, yeah. From North Angeles. I'm Charlie." I smile warmly.

"Kinsley."

"Charlotte!" Chides a stern looking blonde woman. She grabs Charlie's wrist and whispers something furiously in her ear, and she looks ashamed and mumbles a sorry. The woman startles me into reality, and as soon as she sees me her face softens. "I'm _quite_ sorry, Lady Kinsley. Charlotte wont bother your again." She turns to glare at Charlie, and as I open my mouth to say that it was all right, the woman stomps back to the safety of the ornate walls. Charlie shuffles along, continually offering bacon to the other Selected without a word. I look down at my own plate, stacked with at least a dozen or so strips.

I chow completely down.

"Are you really going to eat _all_ of that?" A grey haired girl -who I identify in a second as Spencer- gives me a sideways look, as if disgusted with my eating habits. "Don't you know that _fat_ hasn't been in fashion for centuries?"

Without missing a beat, I dump the rest of my strips on her plate. She glares at me. "You're right. Thanks so much for looking out for me!" She scoffs and rolls her eyes, and gingerly removes every strip of bacon, as if it's poison.

"Do you know what girls got eliminated?" I hear a small redhead casually wonder aloud.

"Brynlee's gone. She was one of the eights." Arizona, my fellow low caste competitor, remarks.

"So is Genevieve. _And she was a two_." Albany's-as I've decided- voice is surprised. "And I think Isabelle's gone too. She was on my plane ride."

"Bridget's a two too. And she's gone." I add, trying to make myself useful. She was in the station next to mine in the makeovers, and I didn't remember her coming with us into the dining room.

Albany looks around the room and starts counting heads. "Wren must be gone." She concludes. "Only three other redheads left, not including me." I chuckle. I didn't even know the girl well, but counting the number of redheads seemed like a very Albany thing to do. "Who does that leave?"

"You losers, desperately trying to figure out the pattern of who's gone so it wont be you." Spencer, who I forgot was even here in the first place, inputs. "You're all going to be gone in a month, just watch." I roll my eyes nonchalantly, but I see Albany on the verge of tears. Even Arizona is blinking frequently, as if trying to keep her eyes dry. I couldn't possibly bring myself to care.

In the end, none of us can list off any more of the eliminated. I continue to wrack my brain, but the names of girls who were called to leave are completely escaping me, and I find it impossible I was even able to remember Bridget. I go through every Selected that I know. _Avalon, Janie, Clementine, Xia, Sage, Medli…._ Prince Carter, who stands up and signals for everyone's attention, interrupts my train of thought.

"Congratulations Ladies, you're one step closer to marrying me." He jests. Some of the girls laugh, especially Spencer, and he smirks in our direction. "I've eliminated seven girls: Brynlee Cozart, Catherine Idell, Isabelle Acocella, Wren Parker, Finnly Grant, Bridget Cohen, and Genevieve Lemarie." Out of the corner of my eye, I see Albany mouth, _Catherine! Finnly! Of course…._ But I didn't even really know who most of those girls were. "I believe that Cordelia, your educator of everything having to do with being a lady, and maybe a even a princess-if you're lucky- would like the honor, as I've had, to meet each of you properly. After you finish your breakfast, she requests that you all make your way to the Women's Room, where you had your makeovers. That'll be all." Carter sits back down, and his younger sister tells him something, trying to hide a smile. I distinctly see him mouth _shut up, Blair_ , and she rolls her eyes and continues to take a bite of her frittata.

All full up on bacon, I decide that I'm not really hungry anymore. Along with most of the rest of the girls, I get up from my seat. Trying to attract the least amount of attention possible. I'm overly distracted by the clicking of heels and feel like I'm about to trip, but try my best to keep upright, since I can feel at least three pairs of eyes on me.

I'm an eight. And one of the first interviews, one of the most forgettable. There's no doubt everyone's wondering how I survived. I'm a target. I can expect the arrows to come flying at me any minute.

 **Yeah, that's all I guess. There ya go!**

 **YOUR CAST LIST GUYS! AS PROMISED:**

 **Mains:**

Riley Kramer

Ainsley Reynolds

Waverly Bennett

Kaiti Owens

Wednesday Kellan

Penny Foster

Kinsley Luca

Eponine Newton

 **Antagonist:**

Spencer Davis (main)

Blanca Van Buren (supporting featured)

Chance Huntley (supporting featured)

 **Supporting Featured:**

Laney Watson

Avalon Grey

Jane Abadie

Medli Sparks

Eden O'Malley

Cosette Rhimes

 **Supporting:**

Clementine Pierri

Albany Androvochisven

Aurelia Jackson

Kalissa Montgomery

Arizona Dawson

Sonia Safeer Al-Khan

 **Minor:**

Arielle Jacques

Celaena Cork

Xia Macbeth

Sage Martinez

Avangeline Astor

 **Eliminated:**

Catherine Idell

Brynlee Cozart

Isabelle Acocella

Bridget Cohen

Finnly Grant

Wren Parker

Genevieve Lemarie

 **PLEASE do not be offended if your character was not a main! I'm going to still mention them frequently, because the Elite (which I have not decided yet) wont just be main characters! Tell me what you think of the list. Surprised? Upset? Excited? Let me know in the reviews!**

 **Yeah, just in general, tell me what you thought. Every review is really REALLY appreciated guys, and I haven't really been getting many lately…. It really means a lot to me when you review, even if it's short. Idk. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT!**

 **-Lily**


	20. It's For You

**VOTE ON MY POLL FOR WHO YOU THINK SHOULD GET THE NEXT DATE!**

No longer was the Women's Room infested with endless racks of dresses and shouting women in black dresses and air fuzzy with different overly-pleasant scents that only semi-clashed with each other. Old Hollywood-style vanities were replaced with expensive-looking mahogany armoires, and the platforms where we once were forced to stand and pose for "After" pictures on were gone, nothing but pale fawn couches with navy, fawn, and dark brown and white speckled throw pillows in their place. In the midst of chaos during the makeover, when my maids were whisking me around trying to make me look closer to acceptable, I missed the spectacular gold detailing on the otherwise white-blush walls, reminding me a little of a Faberge egg, like Lori sometimes liked to collect. Vintage paintings in teal were framed in gold and hung around the room. In the center of a ceiling maybe triple the size of myself, was a black and pink chandelier. The first one I had seen in my… day… at the palace that wasn't made of crystals. The grey-green taffeta curtains were drawn back, and sunlight streamed through the perfectly polished glass windowpanes.

Every bit of me itched to throw open the doors to the terrace and simply absorb the perfection of the Angeles fall. Fennley got as hot summers as here, since we're right on the water, but already the air in the morning could turn your cheeks pink. Not here. Angeles still felt and smelled every bit like summer. The heat wouldn't dip down even a little bit for another couple months. And even then, any ounce of coldness would be fleeting and barely even there.

I glanced around nervously for a place to sit. There were the fawn couches (which could probably fit a little more than half of us, but were filling up quickly with fast made friends) and brown leather one-person seats (already completely filled up), but my only other option seemed to be to lean against the wall. It felt reasonable to do, but my feet were _killing_ me and no one else was doing it. I did another quick scan for an open seat, when my eyes connected with unknown warm brown ones. The girl had shinny brown hair falling down her back and tan skin, and she beckoned me forward. An offer to share her seat. I felt panic and relief all at the same time. True, I'd have somewhere to sit, but I had no clue who the girl was! I silently curse Lacey, who wouldn't leave the TV or computer alone, not caring in the slightest that I had to study the other Selected.

The girl offers me a warm smile, that I can't help but return.

"Are you sure?" I clarify, "It's going to be awfully cramped with the two of us on here."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Eh, I'll manage." I give her a grateful smile as I smooth out my skirt and sit down. "I'm Wendy, by the way."

"Penny."

Wendy looks like she's about to open her mouth again to say something, but our educator on "all things Selection" clears her throat and tells us all to quiet down.

She gives us a closed mouth smile. "Hello, Ladies, and congratulations. You've survived the first elimination." A few of the girls (who I obviously can't name, thanks a lot Lacey…) clap, and one whoops loudly, earning a look from the stern lady up front. "I'm Cordelia Thornley." The black haired woman introduces herself as.

Cordelia takes a second to pace around the room a bit, and her eyes move to each girl in the room, one by one. As her eyes land on mine, I get a momentary rush of uncomfort. It was like she was trying to figure me out in a glance. "Lady Ainsley, what's special about you?" Her gaze is affixed on a beautiful brunette with freckles on her nose and cheeks. She's easily one of the prettiest of us. Though she's trying to cover it with a steady tone, but I can see the panic on her face, and notice her start to wring her left wrist.

"Ah…. I can speak seven languages."

"A Hypo-Polygot. Fabulous." Cordelia's smile drops as she moves to the next girl. "You, Lady Aurelia, what makes you special?"

"I-uh-I work for Matthew Ipettie, one of the top music producers in Atlin."

"That's great," Her focus moves again. "What about you Lady Sonia?"

"Well, my family's from Pakistan…."

"Ties, connections, fantastic." She silences the girl with a wave of her hand, and one by one, hits every girl in an advanced game of "getting to know you", like you'd play in elementary school. I will have to say, though, that this was maybe the most effective method _ever_ of learning people's names.

Waverly surfs competitively.

Kalissa's been dancing since she was two.

Riley is on deferred enrollment from college and is traveling Europe and Asia with her aunt and brother.

Suddenly, Cordelia turns to me. "Lady Penelope, what about you? What makes you… _special_?" Her tone is cold, flat, accusatory. I start to panic. I never panic. I feel twenty-eight sets of eyes, just about melting me into a puddle of "Raspberry Zinger" by Rekaelii Paris smelling goo on the carpet.

I gulp, my mind drawing to a complete blank. _I should have had something ready… he said specifically that she wanted to get to know us, I should have prepared something to know!_ I close my eyes, and wrack my brain for something even a little bit interesting to say. _Oh God…._

Out of the blue, Wendy reaches out and squeezes my hand. It's such a small gesture, but it shocks me a bit and I open my eyes to find her giving me a reassuring smile.

I take a breath. _You can think of something Penny, you're not that boring._

"I'm training to be a newspaper reporter. And through that, I'd like to be an investigative journalist."

"That's nice. Now Lady Eponine…" And that was it. The moment, over and done with.

"See?" Wendy whispers, so that Cordelia cant hear us. "That wasn't _so_ bad."

"I…. guess so…." And yet its still another few minutes until my heart stops racing.

…

After our game is finished, Cordelia tells us we can "mull about" and do whatever we want-as long as we stay in the room. "And see if you can make a few friends, while you're at it. One less person to tattle when you mess up." Her comment seems backhanded, although it doesn't even make sense.

"Soooooo! Up for a little mingling then?" I ask Wendy, now sitting parallel to her on the edge of the couch. Her face pales.

"Oh nonononono…" There's something about the look on her face, and I decide to drop it.

"Fine. But you're going to have to meet them eventually!" She groans.

"How about no…."

"Hey, you heard Cordelia! One less tattletale for when you use a steak knife to cut your fish." She chuckles.

"If I ever mess up _that_ bad, I don't think I even deserve to _be_ here." I laugh. For someone so keen on not meeting people, Wendy seems incredibly extroverted. But maybe I'm wrong…

"Ehem…." A young maid breaks up our conversation to hold a silver tray between us. On it is a white doily, and on top of that, a folded piece of oak tag, just like our name cards. "It's for you, Lady Penelope."

"Oh." I don't know what else to say. After I take the slip of paper, the girl stands there, waiting. "Umm… Thanks." Still, she stays where she is. I decide to ignore her, not sure what else to do.

"What's that?" Wendy asks, excited. I open the card.

"It's from Carter…"

" _No way!_ " She asked, a bit too loudly. Several heads snap to our direction and the conversation dies immediately. Wendy looks like how I felt earlier, like she could melt on the spot.

"Well? What is it?" A blonde girl-Blanca- practically shouts, obviously annoyed and incredibly frustrated. She surrounded by a clique of six girls: Celaena/Kalissa (but actually, I think both), Xia, Arielle, Cosette, and Avangeline. Arielle rolls her eyes and mutters something to Blanca, who silences her immediately.

I fold open the cream oak tag paper, well aware that I have the attention of every girl in the room.

" _Dear Penny,_

 _I was wondering if you'd accompany me on a walk around the palace grounds. It's a plenty hot day (almost as hot as me), and I'd love to have someone to share it with. Interested?_

 _Please let the maid know your response. If the answer's yes, I'll be by your room to pick you up at around 1:00._

 _Until then,_

 _Carter"_

As I finish the note, I fold it back up and shout for anyone who might have a pen. Ainsley tosses me one and it lands on the couch beside me. I quickly scribble an _"I'd love to, see you then"_ on the back and thank the maid as she strides away.

Everyone's eyes are still on me after she's gone. "Well," I say, addressing twenty-seven pairs of anticipating eyes. "I got the first date."

…

"Michelle, I need foundation, bronzer, nude eye shadow, eyeliner, lip gloss-you know, the Charlotte Tillbury I like for her? High Society? That one, get it! And get me nail glue while you're at it! Gina, Lady Penelope needs a dress. She's tan, it's summer, get her something bright. _Move it ladies we've got a little over an hour lets go!_ " One thing I'd gathered about my head maid, Tanya, was that she was a little controlling. But me having the first date was throwing her _completely_ over the edge. As Michelle struggled to lay out the cosmetics she had to apply (all waterproof, so I couldn't sweat it off), and Gina disappeared completely into my more-massive-than-necessary closet in search for the perfect ensemble, Tanya muttered to herself over and over again as she unplugged and replugged the curling iron. "Screw it." She finally said. "You're getting a braid."

And I braid is what I got. She started at the top of my head; French braiding until around my ear, where she connected the blonde strands from the back and rebraided it into a side fishtail. It looked surprisingly nice. She sprayed me with hairspray and whisked me off to Michelle, who –steadily as possible, with whatever time she had- applied my makeup (all while keeping a constant stream of gossip going. How she heard that former Queen America got the first date too, how Lady Chance's maids were bragging that she'd get the first date, the like). She was just putting the finishing touches on the eye shadow when Gina – _panting_ \- reemerged from my closet with my outfit.

" _Quickly!_ " Tanya emphasizes. "We've got less than fifteen minutes!" Embarrassingly enough, I'm stripped in front of _all three_ of my maids. But I guess the final product was worth it.

I stand completely still in front of the full-length mirror. My dress was made out of a breathable material that was comfortable and cool, and as I spun around I saw that it got a bit of lift. It was a bright strawberry colored mini dress, with two spaghetti straps that connected (an otherwise backless dress) in the back with a bow. It was… gorgeous. It offset my natural tan from spending so much time outside all summer nicely (as Gina claimed all bright colors did), and the makeup helped. Michelle used bronzer instead of blush, giving me more of a natural glow, and the lip-gloss was darker than the dress, so it offset nicely. Taking a break from the heels that I so loved, I wore black flat sandals with skinny straps up to the ankle. They gave me one gold ring with onyx on it as my jewelry. In a rush, they secured gold and bright strawberry colored nails, ombreing a bit.

And for the final touch. I had really loved the signature scent I chose. Raspberry Fizz: sweet raspberry and toasted coconut, with middle notes of buttercream frosting and bottom notes of freshly baked yellow sponge cake. Heavenly, if you asked me. They coated me with it as there was a light knock on the door.

Tanya wafted over, but Michelle raced to the door. After a second of bickering, my head maid was the one to reveal Prince Carter.

"Lady Penelope." He bows and kisses my hand. I assume the formality's only because I have maids around, but I can't be sure.

"Prince Carter." I curtsey.

"Shall we?"

I smile. "We shall." I loop my arm with his and he leads me away from my hectic maids, who I can still hear fighting from the other side of the door.

…

The day really was scorching. It had to be in the high nineties, and I began sweating in less than ten minutes. I could only pray he didn't notice.

We keep each other moderately entertained, with talk about his family and more about my own, but it's clear we're both miserable. In fact, the heat is borderline intolerable. Even with an occasional wispy breeze, I feel like collapsing. Still, I hold my ground. _If Carter can do it, you can. It's no problem._

The walk _is_ useful though, seeing as I get a general better feel for the grounds. He takes me through the courtyard and we pick flowers in the gardens. But all I can think is that this could be _so_ much better if we weren't so hot…

And then, the miracle comes.

A mere 60-yards ahead of us is a giant fountain, slightly secluded and _gushing_ with water. I exchange a look with Carter and use every bit of my energy to sprint there.

"Penny!" he calls.

"Come with me!" I shout back. As I near the fountain, I drop my bouquet and strip off my sandals, jumping right into the fountain.

It's _freezing,_ like ice that you left out to thaw. The water sends chills through me, but I couldn't feel better. The fountain almost goes up to my knees, and I feel thankful that I'm wearing a mini dress.

Carter, who took his sweet time coming over to the fountain, watches me with a smirk.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." I frown.

"Come on in!" He waves his hand dismissively. "Come on!"

"I don't think so." I study him for a second, then lean down and throw as much water I can at him. His mouth falls ajar and he stood there, unmoving. I start cracking up. "Oh God, Penelope Foster this isn't funny." Carter says, smirk slowly returning. He starts to strip off his socks, then his shoes.

"Bring it, Schreave." I mumble as he gets into the fountain.

I make the first move, hurling more water towards him. But he matches, and I suddenly feel glad I'm wearing waterproof makeup, because I'm completely drenched. I shriek, and kick more water at him. It soon becomes an all out water fight, leaving both of us sopping and out of breath from laughing so hard. After a while, though, the icy water chills me to the bone and I have to get out, shivering and my teeth chattering.

Carter calls over two maids to bring us towels. I wrap mine around myself tightly as we laugh about their ridiculous faces.

"My maids are going to kill me." I splutter through chattering teeth.

"Mine probably wont care. But my mother's going to be furious."

"Is she going to make you kick me out?" I wonder, surprisingly nervous. My stomach twists uncomfortably and a feeling of dread starts to pool.

"No, she can't make me do that." I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and he chuckles. My sudden relief surprises me. _I'm not…. I'm not even supposed to like him…_ I entered this competition because of Lacey, not because I _wanted_ to. I thought it could get me some attention for my writing, make me a proper three, not have my low caste drag down my high caste family. There were reasons for why I signed up. Not one for him. But already I could see my attitude change. Suddenly, I _wanted_ to be here. For Wendy, for Carter. And the thought scared me a little bit.

Carter and I walk the rest of the way up to my room in silence. Too soon, we're at my door.

"Thanks." I tell him. "I had a great time."

He laughs. "Do you enjoy splashing your future king with freezing cold water?"

"Why _yes,_ Your Majesty!" I curtsey mockingly. He laughs and bows.

"Until next time."

"Till next time." I open the door slowly, aware that he's watching me as I disappear.

I sigh, feeling a million things at once. Only one thing could possibly break me out of my momentary trance-

" _Lady Penelope! Why are you wet?!"_

 **First date: done! I hope you guys enjoyed that!**

 **Again, please vote on my poll! I'm choosing mainly who gets the dates, but every once in a while I'll be doing a "fan favorite" to get the date, so make sure you vote for your favorites!**

 **Tell me what you thought in the comments! SPEAKING OF WHICH! Thanks soooo much guys! You got me to over 200 reviews! I believe our current count is 205! Thank you so so much, it means a lot to me when you review!**

 **LOVE YOU GUYS**

 **-Lily**


	21. A First for Us Both

**Just a bit of Wednesday on Wednesday for you guys! Enjoy!**

 **Wednesday Kellan**

I just couldn't get his nose right.

While I was alone in the Women's Room, I'd been trying to free sketch Prince Carter for over a half an hour (key word _trying_ ) but no matter what I did, every area of his face just seemed… wrong. His hairline looked disgusting, his lips were bow-shaped, not flattop like I'd drawn them, and don't even get me _started_ on how bad I was messing up his chin. And then there was his frigging _nose_ which just seemed completely out of place, among all of the _other_ stuff I was doing wrong. _This is just great._ I groan, harshly erasing my hopeless project.

"Whatcha doing?" Penny appears from nowhere and I practically jump as she takes a seat next to me. She giggles. "Relax, Wendy! Only me." I chuckle and roll my eyes.

"It's ok, just try not to sneak up on me like that!" I scold, only half-serious.

"Cross my heart, I'll try!" She says, mocking me. I giggle and go back to work on my drawing. "What's that?" I pale and hug the pad to my chest.

"Oh, nothing really." I shrug it off completely.

"C'mon, show me! You can always trust me." I take a deep breath and look into her eyes. Bright blue. Penny has the most _beautiful_ eyes.

"Promise not to laugh?" I ask tentatively. "Or think I'm some insane-psychopath-stalker?"

"Of course! Now show me!" She demands. I take another breath.

"Well to be honest, I'm trying to sketch Prince Carter." I hold out the thick pad for her to see, "It's bothering me like _mad_ because I can't get… _any_ of his features right."

"Wendy! Oh my God, I didn't know you could draw like that!"

I blush. "Yeah, well usually I could draw better." I say, erasing his left eye. "Art block."

"Don't be so modest! I honestly think it looks great."

"Well, thanks, I guess." I try to sketch his eyes again, but my pencil tip snaps. "Damnit! Hold on, I'll be back. I have to go get a new pencil…"

"Don't be too long." She sings.

"I'll try." I chorus back, not even looking behind me as I walk away.

Skirt swishing around, I carefully study my drawing with annoyance as I leave the confines of the Women's Room. I trace the jawline I drew for him, too sharp for even _Prince Carter,_ thinking that that would be the first thing I did over when I got a new pencil.

"Lady Wednesday?" I hear from behind me, almost jumping (again). I whip around; my dark curls flying with me.

"Did you just call me?" I tuck a strand behind my ear and flatten my sketchpad against my chest. I study who I believe to be the source of the voice. The girl seems around my age, maybe a year younger, and though we're the same height, I feel like shrinking. She was wearing a skintight black dress, which cut off just above the knee, with spaghetti straps and a V-neck. Her dark brown hair fell like clouds around her shoulders, and dark eye shadow, thick cats eyes, and plenty of mascara surrounded her dark brown eyes. Her perfectly shaped lips sported dark red lipstick, and she looked like the image of perfection. I inhaled so sharply I started choking, and coughed repeatedly until I was bending over. Then, completely mortified and done with my coughing fit, I dared myself to look her in the eye again. She looked down at me, uninterested, and it was clear to see she was in somewhat of a bad mood.

"Are you Lady Wednesday?" She asks, annoyed.

"Ummm… Yeah." I manage. This girl is intimidating me _way_ too much for my comfort. "People call me Wendy, though."

"Lady Wednesday, tell me, where would you say your standings in the Selection are right now?"

"Ahhhh… Ummmm…" I try to come up with a witty response, realizing that this woman must be a reporter. "Well, I haven't had a date yet. But then again, only Penny has. Hers was yesterday, and she told me that they had fun, and he kept her so he must like her. I suppose she's his favorite if she got the first date, but I don't really know. Maybe he likes me. He kept me past the first elimination. But I'm not really sure why…." I ramble, all in one breath.

"What?" The reporter asks, frustrated and annoyed with me. "I didn't catch any of that."

"Though I haven't gotten a date yet, I don't necessarily think that he _doesn't_ like me." I say, knowing it's better not to ramble in front of a reporter. "If I may ask, what magazine do you report for?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I assumed you'd known." She sticks her hand out. "I'm Juno Peters, reporter for _The Spectrum Effect_."

"Oh." I shake her outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you." She grins, contempt.

"May I have a quote? About your experiences in the Selection so far?"

"Uh, sure. Like, just in general?"

"Sure, if you'd like. Maybe about the girls you've met so far?"

"Oh, they've been super nice so far, or at least the few I've met! They actually make the whole Selection much easier because I know I have people who support me." She jots down my words.

"Fantastic. It was nice meeting you." She nods her head in acknowledgement. "Do you know where I could find Lady Penelope?"

"Um, the Women's Room probably. I think everyone's there." I tell her, trying to be helpful.

"Great." She looks off in the direction I came. "Where are you going, may I ask?"

"To my room. I have to get something."

"Ok. Thank you for your time, Lady Wednesday."

She stalks away before I can correct her and insist on Wendy. I shrug and continue on my journey, wondering how on earth I'll be able to fix my suitor's lips.

…

On my way back to the Women's Room, I keep my focus only on my drawing. Several people have to walk around me, which I fleetingly apologize for before moving my concentration back to the sketch.

Right in the middle off the hallway, I bump into a tall someone in a navy blazer. I trip over my heels and land backwards, my pad going flying. Most of my hair is in my mouth and covering my eyes, and I've probably bruised that back of my thighs and my butt. The hallway floor is cold marble and it makes me shudder.

"Lady Wednesday! I'm so sorry, are you alright?" I move the hair from my face and prop myself up on my knees. Grabbing the outstretched hand in front of me, I pull myself up and come face to face with the person who knocked me over. My face pales. _Prince Carter._

I sink into a low curtsey. "Your Highness! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!"

He chuckles, and his trademark smirk appears. I try to memorize the exact shape of his lips so I can go back and draw them better. "It's not a problem." He bows and kisses my hand, sending a little chill through my body. "However, not to be rude, but _why_ did you fall? Or even bump into me. You don't really seem like a clumsy person."

"Well, you obviously don't really know me then…" I mumble under my breath. He laughs, although I didn't intend for him to hear that and I flush. "I was sketching."

"Oh that's right! You mentioned that you liked to draw in our interview."

I blush, somewhat surprised he even remembered. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"And may I see your drawing?" He politely requests. I pale.

"Oh-Um… Actually it's not finished and it's not turning out at all how I want it to… Ummm… maybe later, or maybe never, I really don't think-"

"Nonsense! I'm sure it's great." He turns to pick up the pad and I immediately want to shrivel up and… die. He gazes intently at my drawing of _him_ and I feel a thick blush coming on. I'm absolutely _mortified_ , and if it wouldn't be incredibly inappropriate, I'd run as far away as possible. "This is sheer genius! You even got my jawline right!" He traces his chin. "Sharp as a knife." He chuckles, and I let out an awkward laugh. He looks up at me, grinning. "You're a fantastic artist, Lady Wednesday." He hands the sketchpad back to me. "I'd offer to draw you, but I'd probably only be able to draw a stick figure. I've never drawn anything in my life."

I gasp and cover my mouth without even thinking. " _No!_ Never?"

He laughs. "Never."

"That's- _How is that possible!_ " I exclaim, shocked. Drawing kept me stimulated calm for most of my life. If I didn't sketch I think I actually would have gone _insane_ and my mother would starve to death trying to pay for my mental institution bills.

"Well, I've never really had any need to. None of my family draws; not even the artistically inclined, like Searra. She prefers performing."

"I can't _believe_ you've never drawn… _anything…_ " I hug my sides.

"Care to remedy that?" He asks, his smirk devilish and _swoon worthy_. My head goes a little fuzzy.

"You mean… like a date?"

"Yes. Exactly like a date." I'm breathless. _I, Wendy Kellan, have just been asked on the second date of the Selection._ He smirks again. "I'll pick you up in an hour. Dress casual, we'll be making quite a mess…"

"Ah, ok." I stutter. _Get it together Wendy._

"I'll see you in an hour." He winks and turns on his heels, walking away.

Numb, I stumble back into the Women's Room.

Very few people stop what they're doing or even acknowledge that I've come in. Getting up from the couch, I see Penny jokingly huff and say "Well it sure took you long enough." As she strides toward me.

I can barely speak. Turning my body to Cordelia, I take a breath and a second to compose myself before choking out. "I think I need to be excused. I have a date with Prince Carter."

The room falls silent.

…

My maids were having a fit.

If someone were to walk into my room suddenly, they'd have thought I'd just won a war or something. None of us could stop jumping up and down and squealing as if it had been them and not me with the date with Prince Charming. Er-Prince _Carter_. We were all beside ourselves.

After a mini celebration, my maids made sure not to dawdle in getting me ready, knowing we didn't have much time. "Only an hour." was the reminder Madeline gave. Every five minutes she'd call out the time we'd realize we were losing precious moments and April and Serephina would panic before Madeline yelled at them.

My maids worked as a unit, which I liked. Instead of one scrambling to do my hair, another my makeup, and the last to get my clothes, they did their best to act together and work on one thing at a time. First, Serephina and Madeline helped clip up my hair so she could curl it all, and then sweep it back into a loose ponytail so it'd stay out of my face while I was painting (I specially requested that, for practicality reasons). After framing the amount of stray baby curls around my face that April found appropriate, they directed me to the vanity chair on the other room. Madeline got to work on my makeup immediately, with April handing her cosmetics and Serephina running around trying to find me a dress. As Serephina got back, April finished up my foundation quickly so I could get slipped into my dress. It was really a gorgeous thing: in alternating ice blue and white, made of a gauzy material. The bodice was blue with white designs, and the skirt had thick blue and white stripes. Taking inspiration from the color scheme, April finished my makeup; with silver eye shadow that eluded to light blue and simple white nails. As I shook my hands, letting my nails dry, I allowed myself a quick peek in the mirror.

I looked beautiful.

I suck in another breath, and my maids look at each other and giggle. Serephina whispers something into Madeline's ear, who nods with her arms crossed. I don't have any idea what they're talking about, but I try not to pay them any mind. I sincerely doubt that _anything_ could throw me off right now.

My nails are mostly dry when Prince Carter comes. He politely greets me and offers the crook of his elbow. I loop it with mine, and he leads me to whatever room he set up for our date.

He attempts at some form of a conversation, but I don't even have the energy to formulate an actual response. No, I'm more focused on not tripping in four-inch heels. That was a much bigger concern to me. _I've already fallen over the Prince today,_ I think. _Just wait for our date, and let's accidentally stab him with a paintbrush or something._

"You look beautiful, Lady Wednesday." I barely register Prince Carter say. "Stripes are definitely your color."

"You're too kind, Your Highness." I say quasi-sarcastically with a chuckle. "I'm sure polka-dots are yours." He looks at me with his _oh so charming_ smirk that LEGITIMATELY made me fall for him this morning, and I feel my ankles start to roll. _Don't trip Wendy, don't trip Wendy…._

"You can just call me Carter, if it's easier." He says it like it's nothing, but I almost gasp. _Barely a month ago you were probably sitting alone in someone's basement with their parakeet. Now you're at the royal palace with the man you've worshipped since the first time you saw him on a television telling you to call him "Carter" and calling you beautiful._ The thought gives me happy shivers.

"It'll be easier when I get used to it…." He chuckles. "And you can call me Wendy, if you'd like. Basically everyone does. Except for my maids, who refuse."

He turns to look at me. "You asked your maids to just call you Wendy?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be ok. Don't your maids call you Carter?" I rush to explain. "Or wait-do you even have maids?"

He nods, leading me around a corner. "One. Marjorie. She's ancient, was young during King _Clarkson_ 's Selection." He smiles. "She's like a third grandmother. You can't beat America, but I like her more than Grandma Ashley. I think that my mother and Blair are the only people who like her. My dad _hates_ her, America and Maxon _hate_ her. I don't mind her. She spoils us rotten, which was nice, when we were little." I smile.

"That reminds me of my dad. He passed almost ten years ago. But I remember that whenever he came home from work-at nine or ten o'clock at night, even though my mother would yell at me to go to bed- I'd _attack_ him and the door and jump on his back, and give him tackle hugs and things. And he came home with something new for me every day. Maybe an old state quarter, or a puzzle piece or two, or a penny dating back to the nineteen hundreds. It'd be so small, and completely insignificant to anyone else, but I didn't grow up with much, and his little gifts were precious." I grow a bit sad over the thought of my dad, and feel a lump growing in my throat. Carter says nothing, so I don't bother with conversation, and redirect my attention to not tripping. Though I stumble once or twice, I somewhat successfully manage to not fall flat on my face before we've arrived at our destination.

Carter wordlessly opens the door and leads me inside. I'm not quite sure what the original purpose of the room was, but it was beautiful. The wallpaper is sterling silver, with teal designs weaving across them. The floor was made of marble and carpeted with turquoise, with expensive-looking vases a matching hue. There are two windows across from the door, and in front of the both of them are two easels, like a five would use (except I'm not sure that a five would be using one made of ebony), and on each a blank 12" by 16" canvas. There's an ebony stool in the middle of the easels, with an assortment of untouched acrylics and two buckets of water, with several different sized brushes for each of us.

"I've been painting a lot longer than you have," I tell Prince Carter, giddy, "but never have I used such fine-class materials."

"A first for us both."

I slowly approach the easel and grab a medium sized brush. Then, I cross my arms and stare at the blank canvas. As I notice Carter pick up a paintbrush and immediately dip it in red, I get frustrated without a clue of what to paint. _Calm down, Wendy. Where there is nothing, there is the possibility for everything. You can legitimately paint_ anything _._

I dip a thick paintbrush into a yellow acrylic, and start to blot the middle of the background, leaving the outer part white. I vary the shade into darker tones until I get to orange, and then red. But in the very center, I see that I've left a random space. I pick up a pencil and lightly sketch the outline of a girl in a dress, with long hair flying upward and two falcons. I paint around them, leaving them in the center as blank silhouettes. I play with colors, adding random bits of blue and green and purple and red-brown. And to finish it off, I paint a little red heart in the girl's hand.

I'm so wrapped up in my painting that I don't bother looking at what Carter's doing, and completely forget to make conversation. This is the calmest I've felt since I came to the palace: sun streams through the windows and you can visibly see its beams of light, there's no jittery clack of heels on marble or wood or even carpet, and the world remains quiet. In fact, I completely forget that I'm not alone, forget why I'm here in the first place. When Carter breaks the silence I almost jump.

"It's… beautiful." He's gazing over my shoulder, and I look back and cross my arms, feeling a blush coming on. It does look nice, though. One of my better paintings.

"You know what Pablo Picasso once said?" Carter looks confused.

"Isn't he the poet?"

I widen my eyes. "Artist. And he said, 'learn the rules like a professional so you can break them like an artist'."

"Fascinating." He said absentmindedly. "Remind me, though, what rules are you breaking here?"

I back up to get a better view of my work. "Well," I begin, "her heart isn't in her chest. That's got to break at least eleven rules." He chuckles, then gasps slightly.

" _Wait!_ You've got to see this." He grabs my wrist and tugs me over to his painting and spreads his hands out to present it to me, like it was a car that he loved more than his sister. His face looked surprisingly giddy, for an amateur artist.

I try to hold back a wince. He tried to draw a girl, with eyes as big as her cheeks, dark hair coming from the _back_ of her head, a lopsided football head, and lips that looked like they'd been stung by bees. He collapses in laughter. "I said I'd try to draw you, and I did! Here you go!" He manages, doubling over.

I can kind of see how he's trying to make it look like me. He made a muddy brown that was lighter than my hair, but pulled back into the same low ponytail thing with curly hairs framing my face. He attempted to draw the white patterns on my dress, and got down to the first stripe. He even _attempted_ my skin tone, but it _did_ look a bit more like Janie's than mine. I stifle a laugh and hug him. I didn't even know what I was doing. If I was anywhere _close_ to my right mind, I wouldn't have hugged him. But clearly I wasn't in my right mind. Or my left. Or any mind at all. It was so stupid, but it felt good.

"It's perfect." I giggle.

"Awww Wendy, I'm glad you like it." He says, almost condescendingly. It shocked me a bit, but for the most part I simply ignored it.

"Like it? I _love_ this!" Not even a lie. Obviously the technique is awful and I've seen better brushstroke quality coming from seven-year-olds, but I do actually love that he thought of me. He made a picture of _me_. The prince of Illéa could have painted anything, and he decided to paint a former-nobody six from Labrador. I blush, just thinking about it.

Carter chuckles. "I have to say Lady Wednesday, I admire your enthusiasm. From the way you talk about art, I would have guessed you were a five." He comments absentmindedly.

"I wish." I mumble. He looks up at me. "Who doesn't want to pursue their passion every single day for the rest of their life?"

…

After the dates over, Carter escorts me back to my door, just like a proper gentleman would. He kisses my hand and I blush furiously, and then we bid farewells and I slip in through my door. The very first thing I see as I reenter my room is Madeline. Then April, then Serephina. They all peek out from behind each other, as if they elected Madeline to be the front car of a train. Though their posture shows that they're nervous, each of my maids wears a smile going from ear to ear.

"So?" Madeline asks, summoning the courage, "How was your date?" The other maids hold their breathes in anticipation.

I sigh. "Something from a dream."

 **LOL Tangled references.**

 **DONE! Hope you guys enjoyed! S/O to Maxie, because she DEFINITELY encouraged me A LOT in the making of this chapter, and also she helped me with some dialogue ideas and other things!**

 **Remember, please to vote on my poll! Wendy's first right now, so I gave her the next date! VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITES!**

 **Also, REVIEW! TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT!**

 **To answer XOStarbrightXO's question from last chapter, I have deemed PennyxCarter's ship name to be Carny. That one was hard though, those names don't really mix well. COMMENT SHIP NAMES FOR WENDY AND CARTER! OOH AND TO PEOPLE WHO SUBMITTED CHARACTERS, WHAT'S YOUR CHARACTERxCARTER'S SHIP NAME? COMMENT!**

 **Love you all! Don't forget to review!**

 **-Lily**


	22. Literally Fallin' For Ya

**Ainsley Reynolds**

We were barely a week into the Selection, and already we had a major event to pour over. And it was tea with the Royals, no less. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was beyond excited, but beyond dreading it at the exact same time. I did love tea though. And I hoped they had Irish breakfast.

I actually remembered going to tea at the Drake hotel every year around Christmastime with my mom, my younger sister Lindsay, my best friend/neighbor Sammie San Gracen, her younger sister Sloane, and her mom. It was one of my personal favorite traditions. We'd get dressed up in beautiful berry reds and charcoals and take the train into Fennley, where we'd eat seasonal scones with lemon curd and little finger sandwiches (I always made everybody trade me for their cucumber sandwiches) and an assortment of mini desserts. It was one of the only times I got to hang out with Sammie during the winter. During most of the year, I had school or was sitting home alone on my laptop writing a novel, and she had modeling or basketball practice (she's a two, while I'm a three), so outside of our annual "tea party" and summer break, we never really got to be friends. I never realized how much I missed her until tea at the Drake.

Even on a regular day, when I was writing or doing homework, I would have several cups of green or Irish tea so I wouldn't be eating anything. I practically survived on that stuff.

Anyway, that was a tangent, sorry.

The very second the tea party with the Queen, Princess Blair, and the rest of Carter's female cousins and aunts was announced, the room _erupted_. Sage had just slipped into the Women's Room ten minutes before from a date with Carter, and in no time at all, no one cared anymore. That was the first time that had happened, and I could tell she was a little annoyed (which I understood, I would have been too). Medli had grilled every girl who'd gotten a date so far. Penny seemed sort of shocked but completely content telling us, Wendy had looked like fainting but you could see she was fighting a smile, Clementine was absolutely giddy, and Albany wouldn't stop blushing while giving us her story in _vivid_ detail. And then there was Sage, who was nice to everyone (but she was kind of a Chance follower, who I didn't necessarily mind but couldn't say anything positive about because Waverly would kill me), was eager for some attention of her own, and she was positively duped. I kind of felt bad, to be honest.

But inside, I was _panicking,_ with bigger things to worry about. If the royals didn't like me, there's no way I could have a _chance_ at staying another week, much less survive to the Elite, or even winning in the end (which currently, was my end goal. I wasn't _in love_ with Carter or anything, but I'd only been in love with one guy in my entire life and that was when I was in fifth grade, so it doesn't really count). I had to stress about my wardrobe, my etiquette, my conversation skills-there was just so much to take into account! Cordelia got right down to our ever-so-important lessons, trying to prepare us for the biggest thing a lot of us have ever done in our lives so far.

Of course, etiquette wasn't a big deal to any of the Ones- Avangeline, Riley, and Blanca (who I hadn't had the courage to meet yet, minus Riley)- who had been brought up with this type of an education. But the rest of us were having a similarly tough time as Kinsley and Arizona.

And actually, I wasn't even having the worst time with this. My back was naturally kept strait (since I'm a stickler for good posture) and balancing a book on the top of my head was no problem. But it was hard for me to remember which utensil went with which course, and my hair kept falling in my food, as I'd reach across the table to get something. Cordelia had yelled at me more than once (which was hard for me to bear, because I had always been the goody two shoes), and my face just wouldn't calm down and was still on fire from all of the embarrassed blushing.

"How do you… do that…?" I ask Kaiti, sitting next to me, with a pained look. Unlike me, she had no problem sipping her earl gray delicately, while my saucer is covered in tea spills, and I've had to ask for three fresh ones.

"Smaller sips." She whispers back. I take a breath of relief when I take a small sip of tea and none of it manages to spill.

"Thanks."

"Now ladies," Cordelia interrupts our tea drinking. "It's customary for certain young women to spend fifteen to twenty minutes as the designated tea pourer. You'll ask each of the ladies at the table if they'd like more tea, if what type, if they'd like more sandwiches or scones, et cetera. It's considered a great _honor_ to be selected as a tea pourer, and I'd like the ladies that I select to take such a position seriously. The pourer is considered the guardian of the teapot, which implies sterling social graces and profound trust." One thing about Cordelia is that she tends to be a little overdramatic, and I lightly resist the urge to roll my eyes in the slightest. She'd have noticed. One time, Cordelia was ranting about the importance of a flawless curtsey, and Spencer rolled her eyes and got kicked out of the lesson. At the same time, though, I was having a serious debate at whether I wanted the "honor" of being a "tea pourer" or if I'd freak out and spill tea on the queen if I _was_ chosen.

Cordelia confidently strides around the room with a shy smirk playing on her lips and her chin held high. She took a brief moment to consider every one of the girls. "I'm looking for social standing; grace; poise. A tea pourer must be diplomatic and congenial." She stops toward the middle of my table, behind Wendy and Cosette. "Lady Blanca, would you be our first tea pourer?"

The blonde smiles and flips a blonde tress over her shoulder, as if she knew she'd be selected for such a task all along. "I'd be simply honored, Miss Cordelia."

Cordelia does more of her nefarious pacing. "Lady Arielle, how about you? Would you like to take the second shift as tea pourer?"

Arielle smiles at Blanca, who doesn't return the favor. "Of course, Miss Cordelia."

Cordelia half-smiles. "Lady Avalon?"

"Yes, Miss Cordelia." The timid blonde says quietly.

"Lady Kalissa? Would you be so obliged?"

"Oh, yes Miss!"

Cordelia takes her time deciding the final tea pourer. She takes a good five minutes, at least. I'm not exactly sure whether or not I should feel nervous.

"Hmmmm… Lady Ainsley, would you like to take the final position as tea pourer?" I'm shocked into a bit of a silence. I wasn't _actually_ expecting to get called. Waverly kicks me across the table and I shriek out an "Ow!" And try to keep myself from cursing. I rub my shin sorely. _Thanks a lot for that nasty future-bruise, Waves…_

I think Cordelia thinks I said, "I'll" because she responds with "Be honored, I'm sure." And continues along with her tea-etiquette lesson. Mid sentences, she takes note of a small, timid maid standing in the doorway with a tray, identical to the one Penny received. I hear several girls gasp, and all attention diverts to the maid with the fateful letter. "Go ahead." Cordelia huffs, turning and walking away.

My heart rate quickens as she makes her way to my table. _It's not me, I'm sure. There's no chance-_ But no, she stops directly behind me, and holds out the tray. I know exactly what it is when I pick it up and recognize the cream oak tag, outlined in blue: Carter's stationary. Waverly kicks me again from across the table again, and I yell out, mumbling a string of curses under my breath. Only Kaiti hears me, and she laughs, staring at her lap.

"So?" Waverly whisper-screams. "Tell me what it said!" I feel a thick blush come on, knowing I have every girl's attention.

" _Dear Ainsley,_

 _I was wondering (or really, more assuming) if you'd like to accompany me to my family's small apple orchard on the palace ground. I find that the orchards are one of the most soothing places on the palace grounds, and they're especially beautiful around 5 o'clock. I'll pick you up at around four so we can make it in time. That is, if you accept._

 _Please send your response with the maid attached._

 _Until then,_

 _Carter"_

Waverly gives my hand a squeeze, and I'm completely shocked. My mouth hangs open like a fish. _Date number six. I've got date number six…_

Kaiti interrupts my train of thought. "Well? Are you going to answer, or is he going to have to pick someone else for date six?" I'm snapped out of my stupor.

"Oh, right." I say, the numbness melting as I get a giddy feeling pooling in in the pit of my stomach. One thought plagued my mind. _Date six. Date six. Date six._

I try for a second to think of a witty response, but nothing comes to mind that wouldn't insult him (it's hard to read sarcasm over writing). I carefully scrawl an "I'd love to! See you then!" in my neatest penmanship. Cordelia hadn't taught us cursive yet, and I haven't had to write it since fourth grade. Plus, that "pretty hand writing" gene that most girls have completely skipped over me. My handwriting is tall and angular, which is rather unfortunate. Madison always had the prettiest penmanship.

I watch the maid scurry off, happy to be out of the view of the rest of the Selected. I quickly turn to Cordelia, who nods her head, signaling that it's ok to leave. I get one more squeeze from Waverly, and quickly get out of the Women's Room, running to tell my maids the good news.

…

The importance of this date was reminded to me by my maids' reactions. July and Luna were quick to get excited, and couldn't stop fan girling, as I'd almost completely expected them to. But even my head maid Ivory, who always had a calm head, was beside herself. After a few minutes of excitement, Ivory tried to get all of the maids calm, but it took at least another five to get them to settle down. They got to work on me immediately.

Luna starts with the makeup. She's the perfectionist of the trio, with the most detailed hand I've ever seen. I can imagine her being a good artist, but I was happy that she was maid, because I couldn't imagine someone better suited for the role. She decided to play it safe, not knowing what the rest of my ensemble would be, by giving me red-brown lips (I preferred lipstick to lip gloss) and little hints of brown eye shadow. She gave me great volume (I had some weird obsession with long eyelashes, but when I tried to do them myself, they would always get clumped) and perfect eyeliner to bring out the boring brown of my eyes. She painted my nails a pale brown matte with silver glitter polish on my ring fingers.

While they dried, Ivory got to work on my hair. She worked tirelessly to straiten my natural curls, and braided back the top part and secured it with bobby pins. I tried not to scream out as she undid the knots in my hair, but it felt like she was pulling it all out. The final result was worth it, though. I really liked my hair straitened.

July asks for a quick hand with my dress and accessories, and all three of my maids scurry off the help her, instructing me to get undressed. I'm hesitant to, because I hate seeing my body in mirrors, and hate when people see me naked even more. This was as naked as I had ever been in front of somebody, and I didn't like it. They did their best to look away, though, when I asked. But July made sure to remind me my body looks fine. I know she's just saying that, though. She's my maid. She _has_ to be nice to me. I slipped into a navy dress; almost similar to the one I wore in my interview. It was made of the same chiffon fabric, with a cool cotton underskirt. It went several inches above my knees, with a cinched waist and little ruffly-sleevy things. The neckline was made of navy lace, and it finished the dress nicely. I felt like spinning, but I restrained myself. I get little gold and square diamond stud earrings, and my gold locket makes a reappearance. I'm still convinced I'll have someone in that, someday. To finish off I get grey-nude suede… heels.

"Um, July?"

"Yes miss?" She obediently choruses.

"We're going apple picking. Shouldn't I have flats or something?"

She looks at the other maids, and they chuckle, as if I was the butt of an inside joke. "Oh miss, you're _far_ too short for flats!" I blush a little.

"Oh. Ok." I had always been proud of my height. True, I was definitely on the short end of the Selected, at 5'3", but that's three full inches taller than my mom! I'm a giant amongst men, in the women of my family. But I did suppose I couldn't really survive on almost a full foot of height difference against Carter. So the three-inch heels stayed.

When the knock arrived, July, Luna and I all turn to Ivory who, after fixing my hair quickly, straitens her skirt and opens the door silently. My maids all curtsey and he doesn't bother to regard them, only me. The greeting is simple and a little awkward, and I try to keep faith. _I swear if this is another "conversationalist" mess-up, I'm not going to survive this date at all._ Carter hadn't eliminated anybody from a date yet. I wondered if that would change today.

…

On the way out to the courtyards, I try my very hardest to make conversation. I've _never_ been able to make good conversation. Especially when I find them attractive. Once I liked a boy named Connor, and I think he might have even liked me back (but really, fat chance. I already know that). That is-until we were assigned seat partners in math class. We were both shy and super nervous around each other, so we would always wait for the other person to start a conversation. We never really did talk that quarter. It was one of the most antagonizing things I ever did. Honestly, our slim chances at a relationship were a million to one, with all of the awkwardly-hilarious things that would happen. When I was fourteen and first fell for him, I swore that I would write a memoir about us and dedicate it to him if we ever got married. I might just write it anyway: _How to Fail at Romance, a how to-memoir by Ainsley Reynolds._ My next great novel.

Another tangent, sorry.

"So you guys have an orchard?" I politely ask, note quite sure of what to say. "What else do you have here? I mean, it's already beautiful enough already, what more would you even _need?_ "

He chuckles. "Well, it got much more beautiful when you got here." I feel a thick blush on my cheeks and my entire face is on fire. Even my ears turn red, and I turn away immediately, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and starting to wring my left wrist. I cant come up with any sort of a response. "What else do we have… We have a pool. A movie theater in the basement. We have a gorgeous terrace on the roof that's _beautiful_ at night, with all of the stars up there." He spreads his arms out, as if to show me how many stars. I'm glad for my distraction, and mentally keep track of the mental images, vividly shown in my imagination. "We have a pond, gardens, fountains… The palace is kind of a theme park."

I laugh. "If you have to stay somewhere for pretty much the rest of your life, I think that's what makes it bearable." He shrugs.

"I think I'd rather live in Aruba." I laugh genuinely. _Hey, maybe this wont be_ so _hard…_

Carter and I talk about the places we'd like to live (for me, it's Italy, and him, still Aruba) and where we'd rather travel to (Paris or the Caribbean for me, Africa or Germany for him), and where we never want to go and why (Yukon, because I hate the cold when it lasts longer than two days, and anything Pre-Illéa because he says it's all corrupt. He insisted that that was a place). I'm surprised to find that he's _exceptionally_ easy to talk to. A pleasant change from the rest of the guys I know. Until finally, we've arrived at our destination.

The apple orchard is like nothing I've ever seen. It's about four forty-five, and the sun is _slowly_ dipping down into the oak trees, casting an amber veil around us. Rows of apple trees shroud us from the rest of the world, and the world smells like autumn. Of just the right combination of star anise, fennel, cinnamon, nutmeg, amber and crisp golden apples and woodsy things and dirt. I couldn't stop inhaling the air, easily the freshest thing I've ever smelled. I couldn't catch a whiff of chemically signature scents that all clashed, or Febreeze, or honey suckles. Carter watches me and laughs.

"I love apples, you know. I think they might be my favorite fruits." He says, out of the blue.

"I love Granny Smith, but that's all. At home, I used to eat, like, three in a sitting. Or six clementines. I have the _craziest_ appetite! I also like peaches, blackberries, pomegranates and blue berries from the farmers market in the summer. Those are always the best."

"Shame. We don't have Granny Smith trees here." I snap my fingers in mock dejection.

"God what kind of a _palace_ is this? Not growing green apples on their private orchard! This is blasphemy!" Carter laughs hard, and I smile, satisfied.

"I'm so sorry. I understand if you want to leave because of this."

"Oh trust me, I have half a mind to." I chuckle.

He turns his attention back to the trees. "Have you ever picked an apple before?"

"No...?" I grabs me by the wrist, with a smile, and pulls me over to the nearest tree.

"I'll teach you!" Carter carefully instructs me. First I have to lift them up and twist. I shouldn't pull down. Or strait. Or shake the branch. After he's helped me with one or two, he says I'm ready to try on my own. I get on my tiptoes and try to grab hold of the apple-but I'm stuck. I, frustrated and incredibly flustered, try pulling on it, and it, and I, go tumbling backwards onto the soft dirt ground. _Oh my god. Oh my god Ainsley you klutz WHAT HAPPENED?_ Carter's beside himself laughing at me, and I blush furiously.

"Looks like I'm _literally_ fallin' for ya." I say, blowing a chestnut strand out of my eyes. He hoists me back up onto my feet, laughing hysterically. He _won't_ stop laughing, so eventually I join in. And once I start, it's uncontrollable and I can't stop. He wipes a fake tear from his eye, his guffaws turning into a chuckle, and then his chuckles into broad grins. "I told my maid not to give me heels. She didn't listen." He looks down at my feet, as if noticing for the first time that I'm wearing stuff on my feet.

"You can always take them off, you know."

"Easy for you to say. You're, what? Six foot? Six one? I'm five three. You can practically see over my head _with_ heels on, much less without."

"Whelp, it's hard to race in three inch heels." I barely manage a "Huh?" before stripping off my heels and chasing after Carter, who's raced a few yards in front of me.

"CARTER SCHREAVE THAT IS NOT FAIR!"

"AINSLEY REYNOLDS LIFE ISNT FAIR!"

"SHUT UP!"

"MAKE ME!"

"OH TRUST ME I WILL WHEN I CATCH UP TO YOU!"

"WHICH YOU WONT!"

"WATCH ME!"

It's an all out screaming match. I hate him for cheating, and yet a part of me wants to laugh. I'm watched, like, twenty four-seven here, and yet I've never felt so free.

As the two of us slow to a stop, we're both panting and sweating a bit. I happen to know for a fact that my entire breakfast of granola and blackberry parfaits and strawberries is completely burned off. Panting, I manage to squeeze out, "I need to run more." He's panting dramatically too, but still laughs.

"For someone so short, you're _fast_."

"I'm not short." I correct him. "I'm fun sized."

"I guarantee you, there was _nothing_ fun about someone your size almost beating me."

"Life isn't fair." I say, echoing his words. We crack up and make our way back to the palace. But weirdly, I'd like to stay here forever. I never really want this moment to end.

…

"We forgot the apples." I gasp, as we're standing in front of my door.

"We can get plenty of apples from the store." He assures, laughing.

"Yeah, but those were, like, _our_ apples." I argue, on the verge of laugher. "I worked freaking _hard_ for those things. And plus I'm really craving apples right now."

"I'll get a maid to send one up for you."

"Granny Smith." I remind him, smiling.

"How could I forget?" He bows, and kisses my hand. I was having so much fun I almost didn't remember I was supposed to be being romantic and stuff. That was my first ever _date_ in my eighteen years of life. And it was… _easy_. Dates with crown princes were not _supposed_ to be easy. Why did he have to be an exception?

A good exception, though. I sigh as I bid farewell and am left alone to my thoughts. In a world where useless novelists can get handsome princes to fall in love with them with a laugh and a single smile.

Then I scoff. _And next, I'll dream up unicorns and pots of gold at the end of rainbows and equal pay._ You can dream a lot of things. A lot of things that'll never come true. You just have to appreciate them before you realize how impossible they truly are. That's the only way you'll ever be happy.

 **Aww that just depressed me a tiny little bit. Ainsley's character depresses me. But kudos to the AMAZING Scarlett Brinnley Brookson for her beautifully sad, and romantically twisted mind.**

 **A TEA WITH THE ROYALS GUYS ARE YOU EXCITED!**

 **Idk, I am.**

 **I need to go to sleep.**

 **NIGHT! DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!**

 **-Lily**

 **OH WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT! WE HAVE FOUND THE PERFECT SHIP NAME EVER FOR WENDYxCARTER! OR SHOULD I SAY THAT MAXIE THAT FLIPPING GENUIS DID! CANDY IS LIFE! Like CArter and weNDY! Get it? It's perfection.**

 **What's AinsleyxCarter's ship name? Comment in the reviews!**

 **ok now for real, bye.**


	23. The Ebony Room

"Miss Kaitlyn, _Deroselii_ –remember? The designer brand? They produced your Signature Scent? - is on the phone. They're wondering when they can send a representative to take a photo-shoot?" My head maid, Faith, stands at the foot of my bed, just like the obedient, domesticated girl she is, with a phone pressed against the breast of her blue blazer.

After a glance up for acknowledgement, I go back to flipping through the pages of my magazine nonchalantly. "You know, Faith, they say that if you put your phone on your boob it'll give you breast cancer." Out of the corner of my eye I can see the petite brunette move the phone so she's covering the mouth with her hands, but out in front of her. "Second, it's pronounced _Dey-roh-see-lee_ , they do cosmetic products and perfumes. And designer sunglasses, as of last April. How soon did they say they could be here?" _Oh my god what are bell bottom overalls doing in PresseMCVilla_? _God I've got to call the manager… this is going to_ ruin _her magazine's reputation!_ _Shame shame…_

Faith uncovered the mouth of the phone and mumbled a few words. "They said they could send in a camera crew sometime in the next half an hour?" I nod absentmindedly, confirming the appointment.

"And afterwards, could you get Sallie Bathónn on the phone? I've got a bone to pick with her stupid-ass magazine." I mumble, flipping through more pages absentmindedly.

Faith nods quickly. "Yes Miss." She heads into the other room, finishing up her call.

I close my issue of _PresseMCVilla_ and prop myself up on my elbows. _Lets see… how can I most quickly get rid of that salted strawberry-caramel crêpe from this morning…_

"Oh! Maya? Come here a second." My only other maid left in the room looks confused. She gives me a look, then the feather duster in her hand, then back at me again. I groan. "Would you just come here!" She puts down her duster and hesitantly tiptoes over to me. It was clear to see how uncomfortable she was around me, but I'm afraid she'd just have to suck that up. She's my maid and I need stuff done around here. "I need a plate of olives." She leans away, with a blatantly confused look on her pale face. "And marshmallows. Hop to it!"

"Wait-"

"Yes, Maya. What is it."

"Uhhhh… Well, black or green?"

I smile at her. "Green olives."

"Um. Ok." She hurries away.

I groan to myself and flop backwards on my plush comforter. I must have gained, like, 5 lbs in the _week_ we've been here. I almost have rolls. _Rolls._ I haven't had those since I lost all of my fat in eighth grade; I'm NOT going back.

Maya bustles in not too long after she left, and I dismiss her with a tight smile and a polite thank you.

I inhale through my nose the content on the porcelain plate, lined with sterling designs. Green olives, which I couldn't stand, felt like they were globed into cotton candy, intermingling with the sickeningly sweet marshmallows. Peeps and s'mores were great and all. I could even tolerate black olives. But I didn't need food I could even _remotely_ tolerate.

I carried the plate (below my nose, although I almost threw up right on the mahogany wood floors, which I couldn't do without raising suspicion about why I'm walking around with food I couldn't stand) into my bathroom and shut the door discretely behind me. Kneeling over the toilet, I popped the first marshmallow into my mouth, and chewed it until it was practically gelatin. Then I did the same with the olives-three at a time, chewing for as long as they had even a bit of their tart, grotesque flavor. I almost choked it all up, but one by one, I forced most of it down. I had one marshmallow and five olives left when it all came back up.

There was a burning sensation in my throat, and tears pricked my eyes from squeezing them together so hard. My abdomen was permanently contracted and I couldn't breath. I started choking and coughing, trying so desperately to get my last two or three meals out of my system completely. As my vomiting ceased, I prayed that everything was gone.

I wiped my mouth and collapsed against the marble floor, setting the remaining food beside me, taking heavy breaths. _There. All better_.

"Um…. miss?" I hear a timid voice from the other side of the door, probably belonging to Faith. I'm seized with a moment of panic, but I calm myself, quickly picking myself back up (although it hurt just a little bit), stuffing as much toothpaste as I could into my mouth, and washing it out completely. The mint almost made me throw up again, but I resisted and opened the door for my youngest maid.

"Yes, Faith. What do you need?" I ask, squeezing myself out the crack of door I've allowed, closing it behind me gently.

"Are you ok, Miss?" _Who is, Faith… no one is ok these days._

"What?" I pretend to be surprised, "Of course!" I strut over to my bed, but as my back's still facing her I try my hardest not to start crying. My stomach still feels knotted, and my throat burns as if I've poured acid down it.

"Oh. Ok." She says hesitantly, not sure whether or not to believe me. "Are you-are you sure?"

"Yes. Faith." I snap. A warning. _Don't touch the subject again_ , I try communicating with my mind.

"Ok. Well, I called Sallie Bathónn, but I got her assistant. She said she was in a meeting and she'd be out in no less than forty-five minutes. I said you'd call back then."

"No, no. I'll already be in the shoot by then…" I tap my chin. "Call again and tell her we'll call at exactly seven o'clock, EST. Four hours. I doubt that the shoot will last longer than an hour and a half, but should the prince call me on a date, I'll have that as my top priority." Faith nods, but with a hesitation. I resist the urge to scowl.

I know that she doesn't believe I'll get a date any time soon. But I guess I could understand why. I wasn't exactly the type he'd been picking so far. Penny, Wendy, Clementine, Albany, Sage, Ainsley, Kalissa, Sona, and Cosette, could be spotted under the _good girl_ category any day of the week. Want to know the worst thing _Cosette's_ probably done? Maybe she didn't cut off the crust on the organic tofu sandwiches she'd hand out for free to the students at that Goddamn elementary school she teaches at. If he's going for the nice girls, you'd just have to go on my _any_ of my vlogs to prove I wasn't exactly what he was looking for. If I didn't like a trend, I'd say it was ugly. If I hated a line, I'd call it trashy. Ugly clothes were either described as _too slutty_ or _too prudish._ And people listened to me. I had more than 10 million subscribers before the Selection _alone_. I got a letter _from Cordelia_ before I had known about her _existing role in the Selection_ , saying I wasn't allowed to film stuff while I was here. Twitter could be used only for promoting the Selection, and Instagram was off limits completely. I was always allowed to be as much of a bitch as I wanted, so I was. I went clubbing every week, got drunk, made out with strangers, and was constantly in silly tabloids. I'd bet that Carter didn't know most of this, nor _Faith_ of all people, but still. With my usual standoffishness to strangers and stereotypical model's body, I wasn't the first thing people thought of when someone said "Queen". Or Princess. One step at a time, I guess.

Clara, my oldest maid, enters the room with a polite, almost rhetorical, knock on the door. "The camera crew from Deroselii is here for the shoot?" _Ah, spot on pronunciation._

"See, Faith? Not so hard." I don't care to wait for a response, and wait for my maids to trail an agreeable five feet behind me, as I strut to the grand foyer. There's only one man, although I was expecting more. I had endorsed stuff before, and there was usually a wardrobe crew of five or six, a director of sorts, and at least at three-person camera crew. I had my maids for hair and makeup, sure, and I'd always thought that you only needed _one_ person to snap a silly picture, but I supposed we still needed someone to dictate stuff. Unless this… rather _dashing_ man could do both. But I didn't see any cameras on him.

Upon getting closer, I saw that he really _was_ handsome, in a cuddly way. He had light brown hair that seemed awfully soft, and warm, smiley green eyes, with a tad bit of stubble and a body that looked like it was built for giving hugs. That, and going to the gym.

"So, we were thinking about maybe using the gardens?" The cameraman said, not necessarily bothering with an introduction. I supposed he _should_ probably know who I am, considering probably everyone in Illéa did, and it wasn't the most important thing in the world that I didn't know who _he_ was. "I was thinking a la Natalie Portman _Miss Dior_ , 2013." _Wow._ I'd bet he knew his history on his share of photo shoots, and wondered if he stayed up for hours over the course of weeks one summer, trying to study up on techniques to get a mediocre job. Not every five could be musically gifted. Photography was the practically only other option, and it was probably a competitive field, sort of. Not the way say, _acting_ was a tough field, but still.

I gave him a sarcastic, stern look. "But sir-I'm afraid that's against the rules. 'Strictly for dating purposes'." I _did_ like where he was going with the Natalie Portman 2013 shoot-it was gorgeous.

He cocked his head to the side and gave me a lopsided smile, making my insides turn soft like butter. "I never really saw you as one of those girls who followed rules."

"I suppose I never really was." I shrug, grinning. "But anyways, it'd be a _clear_ marketing mistake to set the ad in the _gardens._ Hello! It's meant to be a more alluring. It's blackberry and pomegranate and strawberry and citrus. Vanilla. It's intoxicating, _addicting_. Can't miss-advertise our product with something 'pretty', can we now. It has to be _breathtaking._ "

"You're right." He chuckles. "You're absolutely right."

"Aren't I always." I give him a sly smirk, to show him I'm only teasing. "I actually have the perfect place in mind- there's this one hallway overlooking the _entire_ province of Angeles… It's perfect." He nods along and lets me lead him to the place I have in mind. Then, I turn to my maids and start spitting my wardrobe ideas, a newfound excitement in my throat. Either that, or it was still burning from all of the purging. "I was thinking kind of a dark-sexy-glamorous wardrobe. Velvet. Trumpet style maybe? Dress. It has to be a dress. I'm thinking spaghetti straps, sweetheart neckline. _No_ embellishments, I'd be fine with high low or loose fit. The heels _obviously_ have to be velvet too. Strappy. Look for stilettos. What about fur shrug?" I ask the cameraman, but confirm it immediately anyway. "Yeah, I need one. Nothing says _glamor_ like fox fur handing from your arms. I want it in white. I need a diamond and onyx necklace. Not a choker, but it should _not_ be long. Also, chandelier earrings."

"Pearls?" Asks Clara, my head seamstress.

" _Diamonds, of course."_ She nods, already mentally planning the ensemble. I can practically see the gears of her brain working. "Maya, I want _curls_. And not those ugly ringlets, either. Think old-Hollywood."

"Yes Miss."

"Faith? Smoky eyes. Black. I want _eye attention_. Throw some silver in there, too. If we overdo it with the black eye makeup it'll look tacky with the berry lipstick, and, _hello,_ it's a _berry themed perfume_. _Go light on the blush,_ "

"Of course, Miss." With the last of my maids gone, I turn to the cameraman, who sports an utterly _stunned_ look on his face.

"That's legitimately the only way you can get stuff done around here." I shrug nonchalantly.

"Wow… Are you always such a bossy pants?" He kids, as if we've been friends for years.

"Do you always tease innocent, unassuming Ladies of the Selection who actually _get stuff done?_ "

"Do you always answer questions with questions?"

I open my mouth to respond, but shut it, scowling. "Just shut up." He laughs. It's a pure thing, an actual crystal laugh. Kind of low, kind of sexy, kind of addicting. My scowl melts into my usual easy grin.

"Have you ever been in marketing before?" He asks me.

"I'm a Fashion Vlogger."

"Ahhhh," He says, nodding his head. "You're really good at this stuff, though. You should consider it."

"Well, once I become demoted to a three, I'll make sure to get into the _director of photography_ position immediately." I roll my eyes.

"And they'll accept you with open arms." He grins at me, and I shove him playfully. "I'm Percy. I don't think I said that before. Percy Ryane." He sticks his hand out for me to shake, as if he was pitching a campaign.

"It's an honor, Percy Ryane. If you don't know who I am by now, you should really stick your head out the window more often." He laughs, and we walk the rest of the way in silence, a smug smirk stuck on my face.

…

"Well, this is it. What do you think?" I say, gesturing around the room. The floor is made of pure Neptunite, without a single dusty shoeprint. There was one white shag rug under a glass coffee table, holding an unopened stack of magazines and a small pile of marble coasters. There was one three-person black couch with silver legs, and two other black chairs facing it across the coffee table. On one wall there was an angular black book case, against the white-grey walls, holding several pristine looking books and a few potted plants. On the other wall was only a single doorway, leading to a vast hallway of imaginably perfect bedrooms. A large floor-to-ceiling window unveiled the most _breathtaking_ cityscape _I've_ ever seen, and I've seen my fair share of cities. Skyscrapers tipped into the atmosphere defiantly, and people walked the streets, bustling in their own I-don't-care-about-anything-else way. Something about the rhythm of it all… The organized chaos was all too familiar. And yet, it was fresh, sharp, clean cut. Everything about this place made it one of my favorites I had ever been.

Ah, the perks of sneaking up to the third floor. Percy was right. I was never one for following rules.

He exhales a long, low whistle, trying to take in everything all at once.

"I call it the Ebony Room." I tell Percy.

"Really? I'd call it the 'Can I Live Here For The Rest Of My Life' room." I chuckle.

"I guess it does have that type of charm to it…" I say, proud that I was able to leave him nearly breathless. There would be several _other_ ways I'd like to leave him breathless, but none I could do without committing treason.

Percy takes one last look around. "I think it's absolutely perfect. You were right."

I take a mock bow. "I always am."

"You always are." He smirks. _Ugh god that smirk…_ "So, we'll meet up tomorrow?"

 _Wait-what?_ "Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?"

"Well, your maids have to make your dress and stuff, and I'm going to need to report to my supervisor at Deroselii to get the final ok, and then we're going to need some cameramen…"

"You mean… you're _not_ a cameraman?"

"Well, I minored photography at Penccie…?" Ah. The university in Denbeigh. He's a university student. "No, though. I'm a director of media photography. Like, for ads and stuff."

"Oh."

Percy opens his mouth to speak again, but I hear one of the doors down the hallways slam open, and almost have a heart attack. My face drains. "Percy, we have to go. Now!" He doesn't stop to question me, and instead beats me down the staircase. Because I'm required to wear more compromising shoes, I'm much slower. _Damn these heels to Hell. DAMN THE CREATOR OF THESE DAMN HEELS TO HELL!_ I try to jump down the last few stairs, as I can hear footsteps coming out of the doorway, but I land wrong and fall.

"OUCH!" There's a sharp pain on my ankle, and I rub my temples, trying to regain my vision. I look around for Percy, but he's already gone. The person from above races down the steps with agility.

"Kaiti?" Carter asked hesitantly, slowing on the last few stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I haul myself up using the banister and try to steady myself. He offers the crook of his elbow for support.

"Don't put any weight on it, if you can." He offers.

I laugh through the pain shooting up my calf. "And how might I go about doing that?"

"I could try to keep your mind off it."

"Sounds tedious."

"Not if we can do something during?" He poses it as a question.

"And what are you suggesting?"

"Would you like to accompany me on a date this afternoon? Say, around five?"

I smirk. "Five it is. I'll meet you here."

"Deal."

He strides away and I walk back to my room, trying to disguise my limp as best as I can. Only a few butlers ask me if I'm alright, though, so I feel like I did ok.

 _I told you so, Faith. You could use a tad bit more of your name._

…

Penny got a walk in the courtyard. Kalissa saw a professional ballet. Ainsley went apple picking in the orchard.

I got a movie.

I mean, how elementary! What were we, fourteen?

I'm probably being too harsh, I already know. I was happy to have a date at all. I mean, I wasn't expecting to get a date _any_ time soon (although I never saw myself before the Selection saying that phrase, I can tell you that much). Also, I was the tenth date! That's, like, a landmark number or something. After Kalissa, Sona, and Cosette had "the best time of their lives" doing stuff that was specially catered to their interests, I couldn't have been more excited to see Carter and see what he had in store.

A movie. I still couldn't believe it was a movie. He couldn't have been more on target.

My maids dressed me casual, in an airy navy blue dress with macramé antique lace detailing. Not modern bohemian exactly, more like boutique couture, probably made in Kent (assembled by my maids, of course). Made of cotton, polyester lining. It featured a flutter top, adjustable spaghetti straps, and a flowy skirt, with fabric cutouts at the back, button closure, and a hidden back zipper. They curled my hair and put it up in a ponytail at the back of my head, and applied eyeliner to highlight my eyes, instead of eye shadow. It was much more eye-catching, I thought. They gave me nude lipstick, because everyone knows lip-gloss smudges everywhere when you make out.

Truthfully, I didn't know if we were going to be kissing or not, but I had to prepare. None of the other girls had talked about getting a kiss. That didn't necessarily mean that one hadn't yet, though. Or maybe I'd be his first. But he's hot enough, I'm sure there's some foreign duchess just dreaming of locking lips with Carter, and I'd bet she'd be pretty enough to where she got what she wanted after a few glasses of wine at some gala or something. The more I thought about it, I became certain that he'd have kissed plenty of people by now. And so have I. So it'd balance out.

Clara had given me some ice, so my ankle didn't hurt as much. It still have me small shots of pain every time I'd step on it wrong, but for the most part I was fine. As I hobbled to the staircase -our agreed rendezvous- I was intercepted by Carter himself.

"No need to look any farther. The man of your dreams is here!"

"Michael Petrah is here?!" I try to whip around, looking for the Oscar Nominated actor, making him laugh. But I fall again, mumbling a string of curses. "Can we go? I need to sit somewhere that isn't in the middle of a hallway."

"Foyer." He corrects.

"Fo-yer information, shut up." He looks over at me with a confused face, and bursts out laughing.

"Ooh, too clever."

"Bow down to the _official_ Queen of Sass."

"Ah, and yet not the Queen of Illéa."

"Psh. Like I'd want to be that." I cross my arms and roll my eyes. He recognizes that it's only playful banter and shakes his head, smiling.

It's a painful walk to the movie theater, but I try not to make a big deal of it.

Said Movie Theater wasn't as gorgeous as the Ebony Room, as I was disappointed to find out, but I'd imagine that even a palace could only have so many perfectly constructed masterpiece-rooms.

I had always found a magical property in movie theaters. There was something about reclining red velvet drapes and floor-to-ceiling screens that took your breath away. True, your ears might get completely blasted from the stereo system, but that was a telltale sign of a good time. There were millions of things to critique and sometimes the stupidest movies could make people laugh the most, or even just give people enough to talk about. I, personally, loved movies. It was my original life ambition to be in them, but I couldn't possibly act to save my life. Which was unfortunate. I always felt like that robbed me of my chance at easy VIP access anywhere I wanted. Oh well. I guess I could just enjoy them more if I didn't have to be aware of everything that went into making them.

Something about this room was… familiar. "Wait, is this the room where they film _the Report_?"

Carter nods. "For generations."

"Ah, I see."

"Are you nervous?"

"Huh? For what?"

"The Report. It's tomorrow."

"It is?"

Carter laughs. "Someone's on top of stuff."

"You shut up." I chide. "And no, I'm not nervous. Are we even speaking?"

"I doubt it. It's kind of just a display of stuff so far. Makeover and plane ride stuff. If they found anything while they were deep searching you they could try to tie that in."

"Oh great. I love it when people care enough to stalk me."

"Hey, if you were a psychopath killer, I'd need to know. I can't have someone killing me in my sleep."

"Oh, trust me. I wouldn't have to be a murderer to want to kill you in your sleep."

"Wow. Awfully malicious."

"I try."

 **Yeah, that's an ok place to stop. I just wanted to get this out, sorry if it's a bit short.**

 **Shout out to Demigod-Gallagher-Selected for giving me Kaiti, and jenhen48 for her encouragement!**

 **Just saying. I made some mention about rolls or whatever above, so I feel like I just have to mention that it was not to promote fat shaming, it was to show Kaiti's obsession with being skinny. Anorexia and Bulimia are** _ **dangerous**_ **. If you guys ever need someone to talk to, I'm here, ok?**

 **Also, I've used several popular culture references, and I hope that's ok with you guys. I try to make up some stuff if I feel like you'll get what I'm talking about, but I haven't really felt that with any social media. So, just for the sake of basic comprehension, I'll be using several pop culture references, as they generally impact day-to-day life.**

 **Alright guys! Next chapter will be a Report! Get pumped! If you have any ideas, let me know. Who's POV do you want to see most?**

 **As always, make sure to review!**

 **-Lily**


	24. Nothing Has Ever Been Wrong

**Cosette Rhimes**

I don't think I was the only girl who was nervous when Kaiti didn't come back from her date with Prince Carter by the time we were heading back up to our rooms after dinner. _How long does a date last? What were they doing? Something that lasts past eight-thirty at night?_ I tried not to let my mind wander, but I eventually couldn't help it. I bit my lip so no groan could escape; by with all of my nerves, I start to taste a little blood and recoil.

"Cosette? Are you ok?" Xia asks tentatively. I give a shaky nod, though I feel a little numb: lost in almost a state of confusion.

"I'm fine."

I can tell she doesn't believe me in the slightest, but she doesn't press me, she just stares at me out of the corner of her eye when she thinks I won't notice. I do every time.

"Maybe she already went up to her room." Xia suggests, and I know then for a fact that I _wasn't_ the only one freaking out over Kaiti's absence. "They probably went out to dinner together or something."

"She hasn't been in the Women's Room since ten this morning." I remind her.

"Yes, but that could have had to do with something else." I can't help but wonder _what else could it possibly have to do with,_ but I decide not to. I feel the stress build up in my shoulders, and am suddenly aware that my forehead and ears feel hotter than they should. My shoulders jump up, along with Xia in reaction, and my mind is suddenly fuzzy with panic. _Oh no. Oh no no no…_ I stumble a bit in my white kitten heels and feel the room moving. Xia gasps and braces me as I trip over my feet and almost hit the ground. I can feel my brain draining and I cant think or even see fully strait. As Xia stands, shaking me, I almost reach out and stroke her soft black tresses, which seem puffier with the added blur to my vision. "Cosette! Are you alright?"

When I don't respond, I can vaguely hear her panicked voice call out for Cordelia. I process a quickly paced _clack! clack! clack!_ and a soft _Oomph!_ and my sudden dead weight in Xia's skinny arms before I am unconscious.

…

When I wake up, I'm hooked up to an IV in the medic ward. I had only been at the palace for about a week, and I had already been here twenty-seven times. Dr. Momsen was very strict about me visiting him several times a day, and would often stop in my room for random checks. Adele, Charlotte, and Eloise were all very understanding, and Dr. Momsen told me that my maids had to be warned about it before I came, much to my embarrassment. I let out a long sigh through my nose and close my eyes, the pace of my thoughts attuned to the beeping from the heart monitor. As soon as one thought comes in, _bleep!_ and it's gone. Each beep jars me and makes my stomach squeeze like a fist. There's a wet rag on my forehead, and if I could move my arms, I'd remove it because it was just hot and soggy and getting into my hair and I wasn't in the mood for added annoyances. Instead of looking around, which would take too much energy, I just close my eyes and rest again, not ready to face the world.

After a couple of minutes, Dr. Momsen swaggers in boisterously, with a young nurse followed closely behind him. I groan lightly so he knows I'm awake.

The nurse removes the wet cloth from my forehead and I shiver in surprise. An entire layer of cold covers me when she replaces it with a fresh one.

"Your fever's almost completely gone, Lady Cosette." I don't have the energy to correct him. Ever since I was Selected, Dr. Momsen had taken to calling me "Lady", which was nothing more than an annoying formality that I wanted nothing more than for him to stop. Well, actually, of course there was stuff I wanted more, but that was the most pressing thing at that moment. "However, you were in a very critical period almost all night."

"All night?" I mumble nervously.

"It's around two in the morning."

"Oh." I pause, trying to prop myself up on my elbows. "I'm sorry that you had to get up." Dr. Momsen scoffs but says nothing. "When am I free to go?"

"We'd like to release you sometime in the next two hours. Your maids are quite concerned, and so is the girl who caught you as you fell. She wanted to come into the ward with you to make sure you were alright, but obviously wasn't allowed."

"Xia?"

"Yes, miss."

"Oh." I breathe in and out, the rush of fresh air to my lungs ever satisfying and chilling. "Will I be allowed on _the Report_ tonight?"

"As long as you feel good enough to participate."

"Ok. Can I have something to eat?"

"Ethia, please get one of her maids to bring her vegetable broth. And bring the other two down here as well."

"Alright, Doctor." The nurse-Ethia-scuffles away. After the nurse leaves, Dr. Momsen decides there's no further reason at the moment for him to stay, so he leaves me alone with my controlled breathing and beeping heart rate.

When my maids come down, I see that each is bearing a gift. Charlotte has a small porcelain pot of baby's breath and alliums; Eloise has a small bowl of steamless-soup and a spoon, and Adele a sketch pad-ready to make her own sort of gift to humanity. Her sketches were breathtaking, and with Eloise's sewing skills, I felt like I was wearing art while just going about my regular day. Adele pulls up a chair in front of me, joined by Charlotte when she places the flowerpot by my bedside table, and force-feeds me dress ideas as Eloise force-feeds me vegetable broth.

"This will be your first appearance on national television," Adele boasts loudly, giving me a bit of a headache, "It's very important that you appear like the image of a perfect princess."

"I was thinking maybe white or pink for her skin tone," Suggested Charlotte.

"I like those," I volunteer, trying to be helpful.

"Actually, I just got this gorgeous fabric earlier today," Adele interrupts. "It's a silvery-pale blue chiffon, and we have some lace to match it. I was thinking, unified lace on the bodice, with a tad flare and shredded-layered chiffon on the skirt." Adele sketches as she speaks, pulling out a long, sharpened charcoal pencil and creating an already designer worthy work across her stark canvas. "It'd be spaghetti strapped, with barely a sweetheart for a neckline, but there nonetheless…" Charlotte, her twin sister, gazes longingly at the sketch, and I find myself a bit jealous that I can't see it for myself yet.

Adele mumbles some more and keeps sketching, and Charlotte interjects at certain times. Then Adele will yell at her-which she seems to do a lot-about messing with her creative process or whatever. Finally, Adele pronounces her sketch finished and unveils it to me and Eloise, who's still spooning broth into my cracked mouth.

Eloise gasps as she sees it, and though my reaction isn't as dramatic, I have to say that I'd squeal if I had enough energy. Her design is beautiful, and I know immediately that that'd be the perfect thing to wear tonight. I nod my strong approval, although I'm sure that the faint gesture I made was absolutely anything _but_ strong. Adele smirks in satisfaction. According to her, she once worked under Princess Blair, and she seems to like any chance to bring it up. Adele was wonderfully talented, but I could never help but wonder why she was moved down in the first place. I'm genuinely not sure, as of now.

Charlotte leaves with Adele to work on my dress and Eloise continues to feed me my broth stuff. I notice how her dainty hands are so steady, and I understand fully why she's my makeup artist. Those are an artist's hands. Well-makeup artist. But I'm sure if she became a five she'd most definitely be a painter. And she'd sell out immediately. I'd probably stock my entire house with her work, if I could. Eloise brushes a long strand of pale brown hair behind her ear, and her dull green eyes stay focused on forcing every spoonful into my mouth.

She doesn't speak, but says, "You really scared us, you know." I say nothing. "Or-you scared me at least. Adele was as loud as usual, but I think she just likes to talk away her stress. And Charlotte always snapped back at her-more than usual, at least." Spoonful. Another spoonful. "Me-I couldn't breath. Ugh, Cosette, I'm so scared that one of these times-"

"I know." I interrupt her, not wanting her to finish her sentence. I think about dying a lot-when it'll happen, will it be painful or quick or slow, who will cry and who will attend my funeral, if there really is a heaven or is the God I believe in simply a figment of someone's imagination from almost three thousand years ago. It's all too easy to get absorbed in it, but instead I like to stay positive. If I tell myself that I'll live, sometimes it's easier to believe and sometimes it feels like it might actually be true.

Eloise finishes off my last few spoonful's of broth and lays the bowl beside the flowers Charlotte gave me. Then, she slowly starts to trip off my covers and grabs my hand to help me up.

"Come on, you need a good bath." She tells me.

My bare feet hit the ground and a tremor runs through my body, with every fiber of my being aching to lie back in the hospital's cot. But with one shaky step at a time, I make my way -ever so slowly- out of the medical ward and up to my room, where I know I soon must reenter the world as if nothing has ever been wrong -even though everything is and it always has been.

 **Waverly Bennett**

"But-do I have to?" I ask my head maid, Violetta. She's just putting the finishing touches on the intricate beading on my evening gown for tonight. My maids had been working on it for the past few days, because it seemed to be an overly trying project. I actually felt kind of guilty that they had to do it, but they all busied themselves by gossiping or whatever while they beaded, and they didn't really _seem_ to mind.

Violetta's dark brown eyes skip to me and then back down again in an instant, as if she has to deal with the fact she's personally inflicting pain on me for forcing me to wear a floor length gown. She mumbles an unnecessary apology, and continues to bead guiltily.

"You know you have to, Miss." Ruby June, or RJ, as she's asked me to call her, reminds me for the umpteenth time in the past hour. She spins me around in my hair-chair as she removes the curlers from my hair, revealing beachy curls, and starts to waterfall braid the top. "We have to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside." I resist to roll my eyes. It's a nice sentiment, but BS, if you ask me.

"Alright, fine, I guess…" RJ finishes my hair in silence, and then moves me to Giselle, where I get my makeup done _also_ in silence. My maids are not the most talkative bunch.

I guess I had kind of gotten used to the standard makeup Gigi gave me every day, but I felt like somewhat of a clown wearing so much extra for tonight's _Report_. I have foundation, blush _and_ a little bronzer, lip liner, matte lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, and this shimmery opal eye shadow that, as I gathered, matched the beading on my gown. I touch my face gently with my carefully painted opal fingers to make sure I hadn't turned into a Barbie yet from the thick coats of makeup. _Ah, skin. I'm pretty sure that's a good sign._

Violetta snaps the last strand of white thread off my dress and holds it up while Gigi and RJ help me slip into it. After giving me a pair of white strappy stiletto heels and fancy diamond studs and rings, they let me see the finished product in the mirror. My first thought is that now I finally understand why this particular dress took them so long.

The evening gown is mermaid style, with a tight body and bodice, and blush tulle coming out from the bottom of the skirt. It's complete with a boat neck and cap sleeves, with intricate silver and white beading covering the entire cream part of the dress. As I move around, the florescent lights from my ceiling catch on the embellishments and reflect around the room.

"Thank you." I breathe. "It's absolutely beautiful." Violetta smiles sheepishly.

As I get the final OK, plus a spray of Mango Citrus, my three maids give me a final curtsey and release me to go down to the projection room, where the magic every family in Illéa will witness from their homes, just like I did, once upon a time when I was normal.

…

" _Places!"_ The set manager hisses at the remaining straggling girls. I'm smushed between Avangeline Astor and Celaena Cork, because of alphabetical order reasons, but it's hard to shove my way past the other girls who were also trying to talk to friends who didn't happen to have a last name similar to theirs. I look to Ainsley, looking the epitome of everything that's elegant, as usual. She's next to Clementine and Cosette, and as I start to pay attention, I notice all eyes on the second of the two.

Cosette looks paler than usual. I thought at first it might just be that her maids used the wrong foundation, but there's a sick-looking glow on her bare arms and collarbones, too. It doesn't help, of course, that her dress is so pale and willowy, and that her hair is braided up with little white flowers, to contrast just how frail she looked. There were little hushed whispers all around her, but she closed her eyes and said nothing, maybe blocking it all out.

The whispers quieted when the set manager made the final countdown.

"Five! Four! Three!" _Two, one…_

"Good evening Illéa!" Exclaimed Calla with more than the normal gumption she usually has on Fridays. Her excitement was palpable. "I'm joined here by the remaining twenty eight members of Prince Carter's Selection. Already, Ladies Bridget Cozart, Genevieve Lemaire, Finnly Grant, Isabelle Acocella, Catherine Idell, Wren Parker, and Brynlee Cozart have been sent home, and do not have a chance to be here with us today on the _Report_. However, we do have some of a recap of what has gone on in the Selection so far. Lets take a look." Calla looks up to a TV in the center of the projection room, where I realize that that must be what is being broadcasted. No longer is the camera focused on Calla, although she continues to narrate.

Calla tells everybody about the send offs and makeovers, what she's heard from various maids who she interviewed already, and somehow manages to make all of us look good. Even Chance, who, so far, had been really hostile to pretty much everybody and had some _posse_ that she just dragged around like minions. I hated her a bit, in her… stupid hot dress and really messy braided ponytail. Ugh. She thinks that she's better than everyone else because she's "hot", what is that! To be honest, I wanted her gone. She was nasty, she just hadn't proven it openly yet… Calla should say some of that, not just about how she "was flanked at her send off and at the airport", or how she " _killed_ her post-makeover shots", or whatever… Ugh.

In enough time, with enough body sweat from the girls around me, Calla signs off talking about the Selection and lets the King talk about the progress in the possibility of the war, and the need for farmers to repopulate Zuni, now that the drought is over, all of which I tune out.

After another fifteen minutes or so, The _Report_ is over. The end. That's all. It was kind of startling how easy it was. I didn't even have to talk or anything, and Calla said good things about my makeover, and my family at the send off, and mentioned all of the posters I had at the airports. I think I'm kind of up there in popularity, although I can't tell why yet.

As the camera cuts off, the lights come up and girls muffle about, trying to worm their way out of the projection room and into the comfort of their own beds. I'm a little agitated, with the swarm of girls around me, but I think that's just because I'm tired. The Tea Party is tomorrow, and I'm left without one vital piece of conversation: a date with Prince Carter. Unlike Kaiti, who almost MISSED the _Report_ because her date must have been so successful. I don't know how I'm going to be able to talk, especially not to the Queen or Princesses. _Oh well. I can just ask RJ for some conversation starters. I'll be fine. Juuuust fine._

Well, at least I hope.

 **Yeah well I guess that's kinda it. Sorry about the crappy quality, but I just kind of wanted to post so I can say I did. I put this story on hiatus for a while, but I guess this is an official revoking of that… Thanks to** Athenachild101 **,** Jenhen48, **and** Scarlett Brinnley Brookson **for their encouragement! You guys are the sweetest!**

 **So next chapter is the Tea Party! I've switched the short dresses to long, so any pinner is more than welcome to pin a few dresses or jewelry or hairstyles on the board for their character. They shouldn't be ball gowns, thing nice and airy... It's an outdoor fancy tea party after all!**

 **Anyways, bye for now! See ya later, I suppose!**

 **-Lily-**


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